


Ghosts from the Past

by samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30)



Series: Those Magic Changes [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Detective Sam Wilson, Detective Steve, Journalist Bucky, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/pseuds/Steve-Bucky-Stucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson are detectives working in New York City. Bucky Barnes is a journalist that will do just about anything to get information to the public. When gruesome murders start happening throughout New York City, it is up to them to find the culprit. The last thing Steve expected was for a ghost from his past to come back and haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Man, we’ve been sittin’ here for hours!” Frank groaned, he rubbed his arms trying to get some blood flowing back into his fingers. “When is the boss gonna show up? He was supposed to be here hours ago.”

“Shut up, the boss will get here when he gets here. We was told to watch the cargo and that’s just what we’re gonna do.” Dean muttered; truth be told he was freezing. Frank and Dean had been standing outside in the middle of a New York storm for a while; Dean just wanted to go home. He didn’t understand why they had to wait in the cold just to watch a few boxes of guns. Nobody knew where they were, so the guns were safe; nobody was going to steal them. He thought their boss was just being a bit paranoid. Suddenly Frank elbowed Dean’s side hard, “What the hell man?” Dean turned to face Frank, but Frank wasn’t looking at him.

Frank’s eyes were glued on a figure standing at the opening of the alleyway. Dean shifted uncomfortably, his hands growing sweaty around the gun that he was holding. Even from this far away Dean could tell that the man was huge, and then he began to step closer to where Dean and Frank were standing. “Hey man, you need turn around and leave,” Dean shouted; he had to force himself to keep his voice steady.

When the man didn’t stop both Frank and Dean lifted their guns, aiming them at the approaching man. “D-don’t come any closer! We’ll shoot ya’!” Frank exclaimed; Dean could see his hands were shaking. Dean could’ve sworn he heard the other man laugh in response, still not slowing his approach. Dean had been right, this guy was massive and his whole body was covered in head-to-toe armor.

“Who the hell are you? Y-you some freak or somethin’?” Frank stuttered, Dean didn’t even have time to warn Frank before a loud bang echoed throughout the alley, and Frank dropped like a sack of potatoes, a single bullet wound right in between his eyes.

Dean didn’t even think before emptying his entire clip at the man. The bullets bounced right off the man’s armor, not slowing him down at all; he just continued walking and laughing. Dean didn’t even have time to turn and run before he heard the loud echo of a gun going off.

**************

Steve groaned audibly when he heard the ring of his cell phone. Not even bothering to lift his head, he reached over to his nightstand. He slapped the hard wood a few times before his hand enclosed around the vibrating phone. He didn’t even check who called before flipping open the phone and bringing it to his ear, “Detective Rogers.”

“Aw, am I interrupting some of your beauty sleep?” Steve instantly recognized the voice on the other line as his partner, and best friend, Sam Wilson.

“What’s it this time, Sam?” Steve began to sit up, knowing that he was getting called in to work.

“Double homicide. From what I heard, it’s a pretty rough scene. Some rookie cop already lost his dinner,” Sam replied. “I’ll swing by your house in five.”

“Alright.” Steve flipped the phone shut and scrambled off the bed. He glanced over at the clock: it was only a quarter past two in the morning. He walked into his bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He quickly got dressed in his typical slacks and a button up shirt, grabbing his coat by the door, and locked his front door just as Sam pulled up in front of his house. Steve ran to the car and flopped down in the passenger seat. Sam handed his friend a cup of coffee. “Thanks man.”

Sam smiled, “No problem. I know you need your beauty sleep, so I figured that a cup of Joe would do you some good.”

Steve snorted, drinking some of the steaming liquid, “Are there any witnesses on scene?”

Sam shook his head, “Nah, no one would tell me much over the radio. We should be there in a few minutes.”

Once they arrived at the crime scene, there were several police cruisers waiting by the opening of an alley, their red-and-blue lights still on; yellow tape barricaded the entrance. Sam and Steve exited the car; they showed both their badges to a cop that was waiting by one of the cruisers. “I’m Detective Rogers. This is Detective Wilson.”

The cop nodded. He started walking them closer to the actual scene, “Office Kendall,” he introduced himself. “Two bodies were found at the end of the alley, both D.O.A, looks like they were shot point blank. Both had ID’s on them, one is Dean Jackson, the other Frank White.”

Steve eyed the bodies, there was a substantial amount of blood. It wasn’t the bullet wounds that caught Steve’s attention, but the deep cuts in the form of X’s over each of their open eyes. “Who called it in?” Steve asked, knowing that this area didn’t exactly have a lot of foot traffic, so it was unlikely that a random passerby found the bodies.

“An anonymous tip from a phone booth a few blocks down,” the cop reported.

“Probably the killer,” Sam said crouching down to get a closer look at the victims. He noticed that the victim’s hands were shaped as if they had been clutching something.

Steve looked around; he noticed multiple shell casing. “Did the victims have any guns on them?”

The cop shook his head, “No, but there were definitely two types of guns used. The killer probably took them.”

Sam stood back up, “Something isn’t adding up. Why would these two be standing in an empty alley with guns?”

Steve thought for a second. “Maybe they were guarding something. We should check to see if Dean and Frank were part of any gangs. We should also check and see if there are any MO’s that match this. Carving these markings onto the faces has to mean something.”

Sam and Steve ducked under the tape. They walked towards the car when someone walked up to them. Steve recognized the man immediately; he sighed. “James, what are you doing here? I mean do you ever sleep?”

James Buchanan Barnes, a journalist from The Daily Press, always seemed to be at every crime scene, no matter what time of the day. Steve couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, and his brown hair was pulled haphazardly away from his face with a hair tie, leaving Steve to assume that the man had just woken up.

“I’ve told you to call me Bucky, and not really. This is my job man, so care to throw a dog a bone fellas?” Bucky grinned, the way one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other made Steve’s heart flutter.

“Double homicide. Two males.” Sam stated before Steve could even open his mouth. Sam had never really liked Bucky; he always thought that Bucky somehow knew that Steve liked him and used that to his advantage. It also didn’t help Bucky’s case that Sam never had really liked reporters.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “C’mon, give me something to go with here guys.”

This time Steve did get to open his mouth but Sam still beat him in actually getting words out. “We will issue a press release when we know more information.” Sam turned back towards the car but before Steve could follow suit Bucky grabbed his arm gently.

“Steve, what’s the story?” Bucky asked, his pale blue eyes searching Steve’s face.

“Look, Bucky, I really shouldn’t say any more than what Sam already told you.” Steve said, trying to keep his tone firm. There was always something about the man standing in front of him that made him melt.

Bucky sighed, “I know, but, Steve, my boss is hounding me for a story . . .”

“Steve, you coming or not?” Sam shouted from the car.

“Sorry, we’ll catch up later okay?” Steve said, not allowing himself to look at Bucky’s disappointed face, and got into the car besides Sam.

Sam pulled away from the crime scene. “That guy has you wrapped around his finger.”

“He does not! I didn’t give him anything, I swear!” Steve sputtered.

“Yeah, but had I let you two continue talking for a few more seconds you would have spilled everything. Which is against policy, might I add? He always seems to get a quote from _‘an inside source.’_ I know that source is you, Steve. I’m not even sure what you see in that guy. I mean the only thing that is somewhat interesting about him is his arm.”

Steve choked on the coffee that he’d been drinking, “Sam, do you realize how awful you sound?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Tell me you are not at least a little bit curious about where that guy could’ve lost an arm. I mean it’s not like he does anything. Just puts words on paper.”

“We don’t know him. He could’ve been in an accident or something. Look, can we not talk about him? I didn’t give him anything and honestly there wasn’t a whole lot to even give him. Which is why we should be doing our job and talking about the case . . . not James Barnes.”

Sam chuckled, “Whatever you say man, all I’m saying is be careful. There isn’t anything those guys wouldn’t do to get a story.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, Bucky did do a big article on the criminal activity down in Hell’s Kitchen just a few months ago. Maybe he would know something about this Kingpin guy.” Steve offered.
> 
> Sam shook his head, smirking slightly, “Whatever you say Cap, but I know you just want to see your man-crush again. But I guess you may have a point.”

Bucky slammed the door to his apartment, the walls shaking from the impact. He set his keys in the small bowl by the door and slipped his backpack off his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground.

“Woah! Who crawled up your ass and died?” Natasha asked from the couch, she twisted her body so that she could see her roommate.

Bucky walked over to their small kitchen and opened the fridge. Opening a can of soda he stated, “I spent two hours in the cold, trying to get anyone to tell me something. They all refused to comment. I didn’t even get anything from Steve, who always gives me something.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up, “That _is_ surprising. Did you try pouting? Pouting always seems to work with him.”

Bucky nodded, collapsing on the couch next to his friend, “Yeah, but Wilson was there with a stick up his ass as per frickin’ usual. I don’t know what I ever did to that guy, but he despises me.”

“Aw, poor Bucky. Not used to your charms failing are you?” Natasha mocked, “If you need to cry, you know I’m always here for you.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Nat, you don’t understand. I need a story on Smith’s desk by Monday morning. I don’t have time for Wilson to be an overprotective ass.”

“You’ll figure something out, you always do.” Natasha smiled, “But you have a serious need for a nap Barnes. You kinda look like death walking.”

Bucky snorted, “Thanks Nat, you always know just what to say to make me feel better.”  
Natasha snickered, kissing Bucky’s cheek quickly, “What are friends for?” She got up off the couch, “Clint and I are going out to dinner tonight. You’re more than welcome to tag along.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled involuntarily, “And be a third wheel . . . no thanks.”

“Y’know, if you actually got out some, you’d probably meet someone. I have a couple . . .”

Bucky raised his hand to stop her, “I swear if you are trying to hook me up with another one of your FBI buddies, I just might hit you.”

“Oh please, I’d like to see you try. Even with both your arms it would be impossible - - and okay maybe you and Sharon weren’t a good fit.”

“Not a good fit? The entire date, well after I told her I was a journalist, anything I would ask she would say _‘that’s classified.’_ I appreciate the offer, but I think I will find my own dates from now on.” Bucky leaned his head against the back of the couch, letting his eyes close.

“What about Steve?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. “What about Steve?”

“Ask him out,” Natasha urged, “Clint told me that he’s bi, why not take a leap of faith? You obviously like the guy. I mean, you always come up with excuses just to call him up and ask about a story.”

Bucky had almost forgotten that Clint and Steve worked in the same unit; Natasha didn’t bring it up very often. “Don’t you have to get ready for work or something?” Bucky snapped, his cheeks blushing red.

Natasha held her hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. If you want to meet Clint and . . .”

“Which I don’t.”

“But if you did, we are having dinner at that little Italian restaurant off of 8th street.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it, okay?” Bucky relented. The answered seemed to satisfy Natasha because she smiled and walked into her room. Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his good arm; he really was beat. When he heard over the police scanner that there had been a double homicide, he had hoped that he would’ve been able to make a somewhat decent story out of it . . . but as of right then he had absolutely nothing to go on. He would have to wait until another report came through, and hopefully this time around people would be more talkative.

Bucky got up off the couch and walked into his room, the blinds were drawn so none of the sunlight made it through the window. He could feel the sickening anxiety build up in his chest. Mentally cursing himself for leaving the blinds down, Bucky turned on the small light on his desk. He immediately relaxed as the soft glow illuminated the room. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He hated the fact that he was nearly twenty-seven years old and afraid of the dark; he hated the fact that any time he couldn’t see clearly he’d find himself crippled with overwhelming anxiety. After a few more moments, Bucky carefully removed his prosthetic and set it on his desk before collapsing on his bed. Sleep almost took him instantly.

*******************

Steve took another drink of his coffee. So far there was no MO matching with the victim having X’s crossed over their eyes; he had even widened his search to include the entire country, still nothing.

“Hey man, some good luck finally. Looks like both Dean and Frank were a part of a gang. Apparently they worked under some guy named Kingpin,” Sam stated, not tearing his eyes from the screen, “I guess he’s a big weapons and drugs dealer, mainly working in Hell’s Kitchen. You think this could be the start of some gang war?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “God, I hope not, innocent people always tend to get hurt. We should try and talk to Matt Murdock. I know he works a lot down in that area.”

“Steve, he’s a criminal defense lawyer. All the men we’d be asking about are probably his clients. Sadly there’s nothing we can do against lawyer-client confidentiality.”

“You know, Bucky did do a big article on the criminal activity down in Hell’s Kitchen just a few months ago. Maybe he would know something about this Kingpin guy?” Steve offered.

Sam shook his head, smirking slightly. “Whatever you say Cap. I know you just want to see your man-crush again. But I guess you may have a point.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up, “Alright I’ll set a meeting, hopefully we can meet today. I want to solve this case before we actually _do_ have a gang war on our hands. And you know that I hate when you call me Cap or anything of the sort; so please stop.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Ya’ know people work their entire lives to be called a Captain. You go and achieve it by the time you’re twenty-five and you don’t even like people _thinking_ of you as a Captain, let alone actually calling you one.”

Steve stood up, “I didn’t deserve the title then and I sure as hell don’t deserve it now. Please drop it.”

Steve and Sam stared at each other for a few moments before Sam finally relented, “Whatever man, have fun on your date.”

Steve didn’t think the comment deserved a response so instead he walked outside of the building. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Bucky’s name. He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, the phone rang five times before he heard Bucky answer groggily, “Hello?”

Steve couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for waking Bucky up; he had looked so tired earlier this morning. “Bucky, it’s me Steve.”

“What? Couldn’t handle a whole four hours without me?” Even though he knew Bucky was joking Steve couldn’t help but blush.

“I was hoping we could meet up. I have some questions that I wanted to ask you.”  
“Oh, I see, I’m supposed to answer your questions; but when I need answers of my own I’m S.O.L.” Bucky snapped.

“Well, I could bring you in for questioning,” Steve tried to keep his tone flat.

“No, you wouldn’t, Rogers; although being locked in a room with you alone doesn’t sound half bad.”

Steve really hated how easy it was for this man to make him blush. “Look, if you answer a few of mine . . . I’ll answer a few of yours. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” Bucky agreed after a few moments of silence. Steve told him where they would be meeting, and right before Steve ended the call Bucky chimed, “You’re buying right?”  
Steve rolled his eyes, “Yes, I’ll see you in a few.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone. Steve got into his car and drove over to the small coffee shop where he was meeting Bucky, surprised to see Bucky already waiting out front. Bucky wasn’t wearing his usual backpack, but he did have a baseball cap on. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders hunched forward trying to protect himself from the cold.

Steve jogged up to him, “How did you manage to get here so fast?”

Bucky smiled, “You so happened to pick a coffee shop that I live less than a block away from. Let’s get inside, I am freezing my ass off.”

Steve laughed and opened the door, letting Bucky go in before him. They ordered their coffees and sat at a table in the corner of the room. Bucky shifted his shoulders, wincing a little as the prosthetic pinched his skin.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “Oh yeah I’m fine, sometimes it takes a few minutes for the arm get comfortable. So Stevie, what can I do for you?” Bucky eyed Steve over the brim of the coffee cup as he took a sip.

Bucky still looked like hell, Steve observed, the rings under his eyes hadn’t gone away, and Steve felt another wave of guilt over waking the poor guy up.

Steve felt his ears go red at the nickname. “You know that article you wrote about Hell’s Kitchen a few months ago?”

“You actually read my stuff? Stevie I’m touched,” Bucky teased, but when met with Steve’s serious look he cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course I know it. What did you want to know?”

“Well a name came up in a case . . . someone named Kingpin? Have you heard of this guy before?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Of course I’ve heard the name. He’s one of the biggest crime lords in New York. How have you not heard of him before?”

“I guess the name hasn’t come up until now. Look any information you can give me would be a lot of help.”

“All I know is that he deals mainly in Hell’s Kitchen. His people that work for him are insanely loyal, probably out of fear,” Bucky shrugged. “He takes advantage of the lower income families, offering them jobs so that they could put food on the table. If anyone from his gang is caught, they don’t give up anything. I believe Matt Murdock has tried to have some of them cough up information on their boss for a lesser sentence, but none of them take the bait. Something along the lines of _‘if I say a word, I am as good as dead.’_ This Kingpin guy must have some connections that run really deep.”

Steve caught the meaning instantly, Bucky believed that whoever this Kingpin was, that he had people on the force that were on his payroll. “How do you find all this stuff out?” Steve asked incredulously. Bucky smirked slightly, shrugging his shoulders; he took another drink of his coffee. “Anything else? Maybe a name?”

“Look man if I was able to tell you a name, I’d be dead. I don’t think the Kingpin takes lightly to his identity being known to the public. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so. Okay, I know you’re dying, shoot.” Steve smiled, leaning back in his chair.

“So why do you even need to know about Kingpin?”

“I told you, the name came up in a case I’m working.” Steve liked to irritate the man across from him by giving out as little information as possible.

Bucky groaned, “weak, Rogers, you can do better than that. Does the Kingpin have something to do with the double homicide this morning?” When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky knew that’s what it was. He searched Steve’s face, trying to get more answers, “They worked for him didn’t they? Was it a drug deal gone wrong?”

“You’re really good at your job, Barnes, I’ll give you that. Honestly though, we aren’t sure what caused the murders yet. I am assuming it had something to do with either a drug or weapons deal that got out of control.”

Bucky nodded taking in all the information; he could almost write a decent article. “Some of the police were shaken over the scene. Mind giving me any details on that?”

Steve’s memory flashed back to the lifeless, opened eyes with X’s carved into them. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t your everyday shooting scene. It was a lot more graphic.” Steve glanced down at his watch, “Look I’m sorry, I have to get back to work. Thank you for your help, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, “Anything I can do to help our boys in blue. You saved my ass Steve, really, I should be able to get an article written now.”

Both Steve and Bucky walked out of the shop. Steve held out his left hand so that he could shake Bucky’s hand, without even thinking. Steve froze, eyes widening in embarrassment as he realized what he’d done. Bucky chuckled, he extended his prosthetic arm and shook Steve’s hand, “It still works ya’ know? Just it’s a bit colder than my real one.”

Steve sighed in relief; he had been worried that he might’ve insulted Bucky. “Thanks again, Bucky.”

“Really it’s not that big of a deal. I even got coffee out of it. We should do this again sometime.” Bucky winked, making Steve blush for the third time that day.

“I’d like that. I’ll see you around. okay?” Just as Bucky began to walk away Steve stated, “Get some sleep Barnes. You look like crap!”

Bucky turned around, walking backwards. He lazily saluted Steve, “Sir, yes, sir!”

“You’re a punk!” Steve shouted.

“Jerk!” Bucky called out. Steve watched the man disappear into the crowds before getting into his car and driving back to the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos guys! Please leave a comment as well, I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. Anyone who comments gets a plum :P


	3. Chapter 3

Once Steve sat back down in his desk across from Sam, who was still searching for any information on Kingpin. Sam was becoming increasingly frustrated, there were absolutely no clues as to who this Kingpin guy actually was it was almost as if he were a ghost.

“How’d the date go?” Sam teased, smirking slightly when he saw Steve’s ears reddened. 

“It wasn’t a date Sam. I was questioning someone who had information on our case.” Steve muttered. 

“It was a date!” Steve heard Clint call out from behind him.

Steve looked over at Sam, a look of shock plastered all over his face, “You told Barton?”

Sam shrugged, “You do realize that Barton’s fiancé lives with Barnes right? I asked him about Barnes, I just want to get to know the guy better.”

“Then go and talk to Barnes yourself, not include coworkers into my personal life.” Steve snapped.

Sam cocked one eyebrow, “I thought you were just questioning someone who had information on our case?” Steve just stared at his partner, mouth slightly open unable to respond, Sam continues, “Apparently, the guy is really serious about his job. Doesn’t really do much of anything aside from work.”

“Well I could’ve told you that. He’s at practically every crime scene…just next time you feel obligated to share something about my life with a coworker...how about you just don’t; okay?” Steve stated, eyeing Sam expectantly.

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, “Whatever man. So did you find out anything from Barnes?”

Steve nodded his head slightly, “Yeah, a bit. This Kingpin guy practically runs Hell’s Kitchen as if it were his office. Anyone that works for him is insanely loyal, so we will not be getting anything from any of his goons.”

“Figured as much. But I don’t think Kingpin is responsible for the murders; I mean, why would he kill his own men and steal his own supplies? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Steve made a noise of agreement, “You’re right it doesn’t make any sense; but if we were able to get an ID on Kingpin we could maybe figure out who he’s enemies are.”

“He’s a crime lord, he’s bound to have a lot of enemies. I don’t even want to help a guy like this.”

“I know what you mean Sam; but we need to find this guy before more people are killed. The last thing we need is a gang war.”

************

Bucky’s fingers typed furiously on the keyboard; the information he had gathered from Steve had been enough to write a story. He was just happy that he would be able to meet his deadline, and he wouldn’t have to worry about getting his ass chewed out by Smith. Once he was finished with the article he sent it to his boss, he shut down his laptop and leaned head against the back of the couch. His eyes were just about to shut when the door opened and he heard Clint shout, “Barnes! How you doing my man?”

Bucky inwardly groaned, letting his eyes close, he highly doubted he would be getting a nap anytime soon but it was Natasha who spoke, “Clint could you not see he was trying to sleep? God, sometimes I think I am about to marry a five year old.”

Bucky chuckled softly, “That’s because you are about to marry a five year old Nat.”

Clint feigned hurt, “Oh Barnes how you wound me.” 

Bucky heard Natasha set her keys down by the door, and within a few moments he felt the couch next to dip slightly, “Did you get your story Buck? Clint told me you met with Steve earlier today.”

Bucky hummed, “Did he now? But yeah, we had coffee,” Bucky tried to ignore Clint’s whistle of approval, “He got some information he needed, and I was able to ask some questions about that double homicide this morning.”

“That’s great, Bucky, see I told you everything would work out.” Natasha smiled, gently patting Bucky’s knee. 

“Wilson asked about you today at work.” Clint stated, this got Bucky’s attention making his eyes snap open.

“What did he ask about?”

“Just the average stuff. What’re your hobbies, if you’re actually single, if you are a mass murderer? Ya’ know the basics.” Bucky really wished he could smack that grin off of Clint’s face. 

“I really don’t know what I did to that guy. He actually hates me.” Bucky sighed. 

“Hey, he’s just protecting a friend. A friend who happened to smiling nonstop when he returned from your date.” Clint smiled.

“It wasn’t a date.” Bucky really wished he hadn’t just felt his cheeks go red. 

“Funny, that’s exactly what Rogers said too.” Clint smirked, “But it was totally a date. Speaking of date, Natasha are you almost ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just change real quick,” Natasha stood back up and went into her room to change her outfit. Clint and Bucky talked about nothing in particular, just trying to pass the time. Within a few minutes Natasha came back out, dressed in a knee-length black dress. She was putting in her earrings.

“Bucky, you sure you don’t want to come? It’ll be fun.” Natasha pushed. 

Bucky noticed the slight narrowing in Clint’s eyes, obviously Nat had failed to mention the possibility of Bucky tagging along. Bucky shook his head, “Nah, you two have some fun. You both deserve it. Plus I am exhausted, probably going to hit the hay soon.”

Natasha smiled, Bucky really did look like he could use some sleep, “Alright, promise to turn off that damn police scanner. You could use some real rest.”

Bucky nodded, “Alright mom, I’ll do as you ask.”

Natasha ruffled Bucky’s hair, he swatted her hand away, “Well someone’s has to look out for you. You sure as hell don’t.” She smirked, “Alright Clint, let’s get going.”

“See ya around Barnes!” Clint grabbed Natasha’s hand, leading her towards the door, “Don’t wait up for us kid.”

Bucky snorted, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he heard the door shut and the room was quiet again. He had gotten the article done and he knew Smith would like what he’d written. 

Bucky shuffled into his room, the police scanner was going off, something about a breaking and entering in progress. For once, he listened to Natasha; Bucky turned the radio off hoping that maybe he might be able to get a good night’s sleep. Bucky made sure the small light that sat on his desk was still on before he removed his arm, his shoes and pants before falling face first onto his mattress.

***********

“All I’m saying is that you should do a background check before committing to something serious with Barnes.” Sam stating before shoving two French fries into his mouth. They had stayed late, trying to search through any clues that the crime scene photos would give them. They left the precinct feeling more confused about the odd murders than when they had arrived. Both agreed to get a bite to eat before heading back home. 

“He is not some criminal Sam,” Steve pointed out, “I don’t want to invade his privacy just because you don’t like him. Anyways, who said anything serious is going to happen between us? We agreed to get coffee again sometime. It’s not like he proposed to me.” Steve took a big bite of the cheeseburger in his hands. Honestly, he was sick of talking about him and Bucky, but Sam seemed interested in nothing but. 

Sam could tell Steve was getting agitated with the conversation, “Alright, we will quit talking about Barnes, for now.” They ate the rest of their meals in silence, just as they were paying for the food Steve’s phone rang. Steve answered the call, while Sam finished up with the waitress. The call was short, and within a few minutes Steve hung up. 

“We got to go.” Steve said standing up.

Sam groaned, “Never can have a night off huh? What’s the call?”

“Four males shot and killed inside a warehouse. X’s carved into each of their eyes.” Steve reported, shoving his arms into his coat. “Looks like the warehouse was ransacked. Empty and missing crates, probably holding weapons of some kind.”

“Shit. This guy has killed six people in two days. He’s escalating.” Sam was following Steve out the door. A little bell singled their departure from the building.

Steve shook his head, “I have a feeling he’s just getting started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you guys again for the Kudos and comments. I love reading what people are thinking about how the story is progressing. Please feel free to leave a comment to tell me what you think. They really do make me day.
> 
> Thank you guys again!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “See that it won’t. Make sure you tell your boyfriend that next time he leaks classified information to the public that I will find some way to detain his ass, okay?” 
> 
> “Sir, he’s not my boy-“ Steve suddenly clamped his mouth shut when Fury glared at him coldly, “Alright, I’ll pass along the message.”

By the time they arrived at the warehouse there were several cop cars, and the city mortician’s van was parked by the front. This time there were more people gathered around the barrier of yellow tape. Most of them were news reporters, filming the scene; but there were a few civilians in their pajamas that had come out to see what was going on. Steve had forgotten about the warehouse just down the street that developers had turned into apartments. The sight of these people made Steve’s stomach uneasy, he didn’t want innocent people being hurt in this violent rampage. However, Steve did crane his neck slightly, trying to see if he could see a certain brown-haired journalist. When the search came back empty, Steve did feel a little relieved, maybe Bucky was actually getting some sleep. 

Once again, Steve and Sam showed their badges to the young officer who was patrolling the edge of the barrier. She nodded curtly to each of them, letting them duck under the tape and continue walking towards the warehouse. The actual warehouse wasn’t all that big, it was only a few square feet larger than a typical house. The first thing that Steve noticed was how he could smell the blood; the rusty scent overwhelmed the small space. 

Several CSI agents and police officers stood near the bodies, cataloging the entire scene. Steve tried to ignore the fresh wave of nausea that rushed through his body as he looked at the four dead men, all with X’s carved deep into their eyes. From what Steve could tell, the cuts were probably done postmortem, there was no way the killer could get such clean slices if the victims had been alive. Steve also couldn’t shake that all six murders had been clean, one bullet wound in between the eyes. The killer had to be an experienced shooter, hell Steve would have a hard time making all of these shots. 

“Who called it in?” Sam asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. 

“Anonymous tip, from a telephone booth a few blocks west of here.” One of the officers reported. Steve also noticed that, once again, none of these men had any weapons on their person; which doesn’t match up with all the shell casings that littered the floor. 

“The killer definitely wants the bodies found right away.” Sam said, his voice trailing off, “But why? That just makes the likeliness of getting caught all that bigger.”

“He wants to send a message. He thinks that he’s smarter than the police, that there is no way we will be able to catch him.” Steve looks at the victims closer, they all appeared to be normal men. None of looked like what Steve would describe as a thug. Which, if they do in fact work with Kingpin, would confirm Bucky’s suspicions that Kingpin was using people from the lower or working class levels to employ his staff. 

Steve and Sam stay at the crime scene for about an hour before deciding that it was time to head home. They would go over the evidence of the scene at the precinct tomorrow morning, but right now they were both exhausted. They exited the warehouse, only to be bombarded by reporters asking them all sorts of questions. 

“We do not wish to provide any details on this case; as it is an ongoing investigation.” Steve stated, following Sam to their cruiser. Once inside and they were driving away from the scene Sam spoke up. 

“You only comfortable being an inside source to one journalist? I’m telling ya’, you may not realize it yet but Barnes has you wrapped around his finger.” Sam laughed when Steve chose to ignore his comment all together.

************

_The air was heavy with smoke, it almost choked Bucky every time he drew in a shallow breath. Bucky could hear the sirens from the street, even make out several helicopters that were patrolling the skies; but Bucky couldn’t see anything. Everything around him was dark, aside from one ray of sunlight that managed to break through a crack in the debris that engulfed him. The darkness was suffocating, he was finding it increasingly harder to breathe. Every fiber in his being hurt, any movements in his body brought on another agonizing surge of pain. His left arm was wedged underneath a large slab of concrete; he was stuck. Bucky couldn’t do anything, for the first time in his entire life he felt utterly helpless. There was no escaping this. He had tried calling out for help, over and over again, but no words came out of his mouth. How was anyone going to find him if he couldn’t at least call for help? He was going to die here, this was it._

Bucky awoke with a start, desperately clutching his chest where he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. Sweat made his hair and shirt cling to his skin, Bucky rested his forehead against the palm of his hand. He took several deep breaths, just trying to get his heat rate down. He was safe. He was in New York. He wasn’t there anymore. He was safe. Bucky repeated these words again and again until he began to calm down. His breathing slowly began to even out and his heart started to beat normally again. Bucky looked over at his clock, it was four-thirty in the morning; so much for getting a good night’s sleep, Bucky thought bitterly. His room was unnaturally quiet without the police radio going off, the deafening silence made a shiver run down his spine. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, he was surprised to see four missed calls and two texts, all from his boss. 

He read the texts first. _Four men killed in warehouse. Please tell me you are on scene._ Bucky felt his eyes widened, the second text was a bit more aggressive, _Answer your damn phone Barnes!_ The last thing Bucky wanted to do was call his boss, these texts were sent hours ago, and he didn’t exactly want to admit that he’d slept through all these messages. Bucky stripped the blankets away from his body and went to go take a quick shower. 

After he was showered and dressed Bucky had the urge to call Steve up because he had the feeling that Steve and Sam were probably on the scene. However, he highly doubted that Steve would still be up at this hour, he had looked really tired when they’d gotten coffee earlier today. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache had begun to pound behind his eyes. He hadn’t had a night terror in a while, he despised how weak they made him feel, yet another thing he had no control over in his life.

Bucky decided that it was time to take a trip to the office, he’d been out in the field for a couple of days. He downed a cup of coffee and grabbed a plum that was sitting in a bowl on the counter before leaving the apartment. The brisk morning air forced Bucky to pull his hood over his head, trying to block the wind as best as he could. The office was only about five blocks away from his and Natasha’s apartment, he passed through the front door just as the sun was beginning peak over the horizon. Luckily, because he was a journalist there was pretty much always someone at the office. 

**************

Steve parked his car right outside the precinct, dark clouds blanketed the skies and he could tell that it was about to rain. Steve had been able to get a couple hours of sleep, so he felt refreshed and was ready to look over some of the crime scene photos from the night before. He wasn’t surprised to see Sam already sitting at his desk, his friend always seemed to beat him to work. 

“You are in so much trouble man.” Sam snickered when Steve began to sit down in his chair. 

Steve only had time to give his friend a confused look before he heard Captain Fury shout across the room from his office, “Rogers! In my office, now!”

Steve complied immediately, giving his partner one last look, but Sam just shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze back to his computer. Steve entered Fury’s office, shutting the door behind him, “Captain I’m not sure what’s this is about-“

“Have you read the papers today yet?” Fury asked, his one good eye staring at Steve with intimidating coldness.

“No, sir I can’t say I have.” Steve gulped, Fury responded by shoving a newspaper into Steve’s hands. Steve furrowed his brows and looked down at the article, it was the front page of The Daily Press and the headline wrote, ‘Double Homicide: Crime Lord Kingpin’s Gang Targeted’. Steve didn’t even have to see the author’s name to know that this article had been written by Bucky.

“It only gets worse from the title, Rogers. Barnes continues to state specific detail of the case, which is an ongoing investigation, he states that this is the beginning of a gang war.   
We didn’t want to cause any panic, this article is basically asking for Kingpin to retaliate. Mind telling me how Barnes got classified information?” Fury stared at Steve, waiting for a reply. Steve also knew that Bucky wouldn’t name him in the article as the source of information, so Steve simply shrugged.

“I don’t know sir, he was there on scene when Wilson and I arrived.” Steve answered, “Maybe he saw the scene somehow.” 

“Bullshit Rogers,” Fury growled, “Your little crush is dangerous. We wanted to keep this case under wraps until we had more details on the killer. You just jeopardized the entire case; I’m considering putting you on suspension.”

“I am sorry sir, I promise to be more careful. It won’t happen again.” Steve knew he was not going to win this one. Fury always seemed to know everything that happened in this building. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he had hidden cameras all over the place. 

“See that it won’t. Make sure you tell your boyfriend that next time he leaks classified information to the public that I will find some way to detain his ass, okay?” 

“Sir, he’s not my boy-“ Steve suddenly clamped his mouth shut when Fury glared at him coldly, “Alright, I’ll pass along the message.”

“Good, now get out of my office.” Steve quickly did as he was told. He walked past his desk and ignored Sam when his friend called after him. He got into his cruiser and sped away from the precinct, he needed to talk to Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you guys all so much for the kudos and the comments. I really like hearing what people have to say about this story. I was so nervous about posting this so it's really nice to see people are enjoying it. 
> 
> You guys are awesome! *Passes out plums for everyone*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Sam was right, it was quite possible that Bucky had Steve wrapped around his finger.

Bucky swallowed the two pills with a glass of water. He had been hoping that this headache would have gone away on its own, but the throbbing only seemed to get worse. After about twenty minutes of Smith yelling at him for not answering his phone, the only thing Bucky wanted to do was go back to his apartment and lounge around on the couch. However, Bucky needed to get some office work done, sadly his job wasn’t all staking out a crime scene. Bucky found himself doing more research on Kingpin, he wanted to help figure out who this guy really was. Not only would that help with figuring out who was committing all these recent murders, but the world would be safer if Kingpin was behind bars. 

Bucky was torn away from his thoughts when he heard an all too familiar voice boom throughout the small office space, “I need to speak to Mr. Barnes.” Bucky poked his head around his cubicle, he could see Steve standing in front of the office secretary. The first thing that Bucky noticed was that Steve looked pissed, his eyebrows were knotted together and his hands were curled into fists. He never realized just how big Steve was, but seeing the man angry and seething brought his size to Bucky’s attention. Bucky could hear the secretary, Carol, muttering some excuse about himself being out at the moment; Bucky decided that he needed to intervene before things escalated into anything worse.

“Hey Rogers, can’t handle a day without seeing me?” Bucky joked walking up to the fuming man. His smiled faltered when Steve continued to glare at him. This was the first time he had been on the receiving end of the man’s anger.

“James, I need to speak with you. Alone.” Bucky tried not to grimace at how Steve spat his name out as if it were poison. Bucky nodded wordlessly and lead Steve into a small conference room that no one ever used. 

“Mind telling me why you felt the need to yell at Carol?” Bucky asked after he shut the door, trying to keep his tone passive. Steve turned around and shoved something into Bucky’s chest. Bucky knew without looking at it that it was his newspaper, the article he’d written plastered on the front page, “I don’t know why you’re so pissy right now. You knew I was gonna write an article, I didn’t mention your name, there was nothing in there to give you away as the source.”

“God, Bucky, is that what you think this is about?” Steve groaned, “Did I get my ass chewed out from my boss? Yeah I did, everyone knows I’m the source. That isn’t what this is about.”

Bucky furrowed his brows in confusion, “Then what the hell are you mad about?”

“You put yourself in danger Bucky, you called out Kingpin and the guy going after him. Your name is on that article, they know who you are. This Kingpin guy won’t take being humiliated in the newspaper lightly. What if he goes after you? He might want to make an example of you.” Steve stated. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. Steve was worried about his wellbeing? That’s why he was so worked up, because there was a possibility that Bucky could get hurt for what he’d written? While Bucky was somewhat touched that Steve cared about him this much, he was also offended.

“I can take care of myself Steve. Newsflash, this is not the first article I have written about a crime lord, and it definitely will not be the last.” Bucky growled.

“God, you have to be one of the most stubborn person that I’ve ever met. Jesus, Bucky, think for just one second what would happen if Kingpin decided to come after you.” Steve’s tone raising with every word he spoke. “You would be dead before anyone could even think about stopping it. Is that what you want? Is getting a story really worth that to you?”

“Like I said, I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless Steve. I know what I’m doing. I know the dangers that come along with my job. Just because I’m missing an arm doesn’t mean I am completely helpless. I can handle anything anyone throws at me.” 

“This is ridiculous, you put yourself in harm’s way for what? A story? C’mon nothing is worth that…nothing is worth losing your life over.” Steve just wanted to get his point through to Bucky.

“You’re acting like I’m about to be executed Steve. You’re overreacting. Plus, what I do with my life is not any of your concern.” Bucky turned to leave, he was completely done with this conversation. He didn’t need Steve acting like he was a child. Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky’s arm and pulled him closer. Bucky thrown off by the sudden movement crashed into Steve’s chest; he was about to push himself away when Steve crashed his lips against his own. Bucky tensed up, making a quiet sound of surprise. It only took a moment before Bucky melted into the kiss, Steve’s hand moved up to Bucky’s hair pulling the man closer. Steve pushed Bucky against the door, Bucky found himself clinging to Steve’s broad shoulders desperately trying to gain some dominance over the taller man. This failed when Steve tightened the grip on Bucky’s hair making the smaller man groan in pleasure. 

Just was quick as the kiss began, it was over. It left both men breathing heavily and Steve leaned forward so his forehead is touching Bucky’s. “You’re wrong Bucky. Your life is my concern. It has been since the first time I laid eyes on you.” Bucky closed his eyes, breathing in the musky scent of Steve’s cologne. 

“Steve, I’m not-I’m wrong for you.” Bucky whispered, he felt Steve’s hand gently lift Bucky’s face so that he was staring directly into Steve’s blue eyes. 

“I don’t care Buck. I care about you, and I’ve wanted to kiss your smart-ass mouth for ages.” Steve smirked, Bucky’s storm-blue eyes searched his face; this couldn’t be real, this was a dream and Bucky knew he’d be waking soon. How could someone like Steve Rogers care about someone like Bucky? Nothing about this made any sense to him. Steve leaned down and kissed Bucky again, this one a lot shorter and sweeter than the last. “I don’t like you putting yourself in danger Bucky, I don’t like thinking that you could be hurt.”

Bucky shook his head gently, he found himself looking up at Steve. “You have to trust me. I know what I’m doing. I promise I am not taking on something that I can’t handle.” His voice came up just above a whisper and Steve groaned.

“I’m not going to change your mind am I?” Steve asked, his eyes staring intently at Bucky.

“No, you’re not.” 

Steve let their foreheads touch again, “Just promise me if you get any inkling that someone may be coming after you that you’ll let me know right away.”

“I promise, but I really think you are overacting.” 

Steve was about to respond when his phone began to ring. Steve took a step back from Bucky and answered the call. Bucky watched as Steve talked to whoever was on the other line, “Detective Rogers. Yeah. Okay. Really, tonight? Alright, I’ll meet you by the docks at five.” Steve hung up and Bucky raised one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, “That was Sam. Apparently he got wind of a possible weapons deal that might be going down tonight.”

Bucky was surprised, he would’ve thought that Kingpin might hold off for a while considering that his last two deals had ending badly. “Really? That doesn’t add up, why would he risk losing even more business?” 

Steve shrugged, “Maybe he is getting desperate? I bet he wants to catch this guy even more than we do.”

“You think this might be a setup for the killer,” Bucky mused, “Wouldn’t be a bad strategy, but I highly doubt someone that has this level of skill would fall for it.”

“There is only one way to find out. I’ll call you tonight with the details I can afford to leak.” Steve moved his hand to the doorknob but Bucky didn’t budge, “I need ya’ to move Buck.”

“You think just because you kiss me that I will sit at home waiting for your call like a good little housewife? That is not how this is gonna work pal.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, Steve looked at him incredulously.

“You are not coming with me Bucky. Not a chance in hell. There will be real men with real guns. This is way too dangerous, I cannot let you be there.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Like I said about a thousand times before, I can handle myself.”

Steve looked at Bucky like he’d grown a second head, it was one thing to write a story from the safety of an office or apartment; but this was something else entirely, this would be an active scene with people that would shoot Bucky without a second thought. “Sam would never allow me to bring you on scene, he may be my best friend but he isn’t going to breach protocol so you can write another story.” Honestly Steve was just racking his brain for any excuses that might get Bucky to stay some place safe.

“I know that Steve, if Sam saw me I’d probably find myself in the back of a police cruiser; but Sam isn’t going to see me. We’ll get there early and I will find a place that’s hidden but has a good vantage point.” Steve couldn’t help but think of the countless missions from the Army that he’d led. There were always some of his men that were hidden from plain sight but were able to intervene at a moment’s notice. 

“No Bucky. I am not comfortable with this at all. We aren’t even sure how many men are going to be there.” 

“Think of it like this Stevie, either I go with you and you’ll know exactly where I am or I’ll go by myself and you’ll be a nervous wreck the entire exchange because you’re going to   
be worried about me.” Steve hated the way that Bucky’s cocky smile made his heart flutter.

“Are you threatening me Barnes?” Steve growled, trying to stay firm, which made Bucky’s smile only grow.

“Threatening you? No. But I am telling you the truth. I am going to that exchange, nothing you can say will change my mind.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and grunted, “Fine, you and I will go to the exchange site early and I will set you up in an area where I believe it to be safe. That is my first and final offer, take it or leave it.” 

Bucky smirked, “Deal. I’ll grab my backpack and we’ll get going.”

Steve glanced down at his watch and frowned, “It’s still a little early to head over to the site.” 

“Yeah but you’re gonna buy me lunch.” Bucky stated, opening the door behind him and walking out of the room.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh am I? I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

“Yeah well you get paid more and you initiated the first kiss so that means you have to buy the meal. I have standards ya’ know.” Bucky grabbed his backpack from his cubicle and Steve followed him out of the building. Maybe Sam was right, it was quite possible that Bucky had Steve wrapped around his finger.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Please leave comments and kudos. I really like hearing what people are thinking.   
> Thank you all for the continued support, you are all awesome!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my…please tell me you got a photo. Please make this night was not a complete disaster.”
> 
> Bucky’s lips formed into a small smile, “I got a few.”

After spending the afternoon together at a small café down the street from Bucky’s office talking about everything and nothing; Steve was driving to the dockyard. He glanced over at Bucky and bit his lip. He knew he shouldn’t be bringing a civilian onto an active scene but he also knew that Bucky’s early threat was not an empty one, so he decided that if knew where Bucky was that he would be able to keep him safe. The sun was just beginning to fall when Steve parked beside a curb a few blocks away from where the exchange was going to take place. 

Both men wordlessly stepped out of the car and Bucky followed Steve down the street. They turned down a small alley and stopped when they reached a fire escape. “I hope you aren’t afraid of heights Barnes.” Steve motioned for Bucky to begin the ascent, “Do you think you can make it up okay?”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes, “I am so going to pretend that you did not just ask me that.” Bucky readjusted his backpack and began to climb the ladder. Steve noticed that he pretty much just used his one arm, but what shocked him was the gracefulness of Bucky’s movements. He’d never noticed how strong Bucky was. Steve shook his head and followed after Bucky, by the time Steve made it to the roof Bucky was already crouching down near the far edge. The way Bucky positioned his body made Steve’s mind instantly think about the snipers that had been in his unit. 

Steve kneeled down next to the brunette, who was setting up his camera, and gently pushed Bucky’s face up so that they were looking at one another. “Buck, I need you to promise that you will stay here until I come and get you. I mean it. I’m already going to be nervous that you’re here but at least I’ll know where you are.”  
Bucky nodded, “I promise, I should be able to get some good shots from up here.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded before standing back up, “I need to go meet Sam. Please stay here.”

Bucky made a shooing motion, “I won’t move a muscle Steve; now go before you give Sam an aneurism for being late.” 

Steve gave Bucky one last glance before returning to the street. Steve wasn’t surprised to see Sam’s cruiser parked behind his own but he did raise an eyebrow when he saw Clint   
Barton sitting in the passenger seat beside his partner. They both exited the car and met Steve on the curb.

“What were you doing over there?” Sam asked tilting his head towards the building. 

“I was getting a better view of the area, seeing possible points of entry and exits.” Steve stated, it wasn’t a total lie, he had examined the area while on the roof.

Clint laughed, “Do you believe him Sam?”

Sam shook his head, “Not for one damn second.”

“Why is Barton here anyway?” Steve asked, trying desperately to change the subject. 

“He worked in narcotics before being transferred to homicide. He may be able to recognize some of the men at the exchange. Plus, you know that I hate driving alone.” Sam smirked, “So you were gone awhile.”

Steve hated that he felt himself blush, luckily it was dark so maybe the two other men didn’t notice. “We need to get to the exchange site. You have back-up ready just in case there are more men than we’re anticipating.” 

“Yeah, yeah don’t think you can keep changing the subject Rogers.” Sam playfully shoved Steve’s shoulder before handing Steve an earpiece. “But to answer your question, yes, S.W.A.T. is on standby.” 

Steve put it in without any hesitation, Sam explained that Barton may need to split off to try and get a better look at the exchange but they needed to stay in constant communication hence the earpiece. Once settled behind some crates far enough from the site to avoid attention but close enough to see what was going on, Steve found himself constantly looking to the rooftop where Bucky was. He tried to see if he could make out Bucky’s crouching form but the man seemed to blend into the shadows. 

Barton chose to hide behind a large crane to the left, stating that it offered a better view of the open space in front. After waiting for a few more minutes, a large cargo truck drove through an alley and stopped in front of one of the loading docks. Two men exited the cab, while another three jumped out of the back. They unloaded three large crates and carefully set them on the ground. “Barton, do you recognize any of them?” Sam whispered.

The earpiece crackled with static before Steve heard Clint’s voice, “The two that were in the cab definitely work for Kingpin. I busted them about three years ago on minor drug charges, seems like they’ve been promoted. The other three aren’t ringing any bells, must be new recruits.”

Another truck drove up and stopped almost parallel to the other one. Three men came out of the second truck, one dressed in a suit the other two in some type of combat gear. “I don’t recognize any of them. Probably some type of foreign war lord by the way he’s dressed.” Clint stated. 

The man dressed in the suit walked to one of the men from the first truck, they shook hands briefly before exchanging some words. Steve couldn’t make out what they were saying but it did appear that they knew each other, probably from previous deals. The man in the suit motioned to the crates and then his two men came forward with crowbars and opened the first crate. 

“What’s the plan guys?” Clint’s voice asked. 

“We can’t make any arrests until a payment is made.” Sam answered, “We should probably alert S.W.A.T. about the situation soon. With this many guns things can get ugly real   
fast.” 

Steve instantly thought of Bucky on the rooftop. He hated that he had agreed to let Bucky come, this was no place for a civilian. Steve wanted to abandoned his spot and get Bucky somewhere safe, but he knew he had to stay here. The next crate was opened and the man in the suit nodded approvingly, a small smile gracing his lips. The last crate was opened and this is where things turned for the worse.

“It’s a bomb!” One of the suit’s men shouted backing up quickly.

“What the hell is this?” One of the Kingpin’s men sounded generally surprised as he looked at the ticking clock. 

The next thing Steve knew there was a loud explosion, the force knocking Sam and Steve off of their feet. Steve felt his elbow scrape against the concrete as he slid a few feet. Sam tumbled next to him, his head hitting the ground slightly causing a small split on his eyebrow. Sam shook his head and shakily stood back up and pulled his radio out of his coat pocket, “We need the bomb squad and fire at the docks. There’s been an explosion!” 

Steve shot to his feet, ignoring the slight ringing in his ears and looked at the scene in front of him. None of the men from the exchange were alive, bits of their bodies scattered around the area. The two cars were turned over and were on fire. Steve could already make out sirens in the distance when he heard a groan to his left. Sam heard it too and they both ran over to Clint, who was laying on his back a pained expression on his face. Steve noticed the blood running down from his ears, he knew that wasn’t good. “We have an officer down. I repeat officer down, send an ambulance.” Sam shouted into the radio. 

“Clint. Clint can you hear me?” Sam asked kneeling down next to his friend. Clint made no movement to show that he heard Sam. “Don’t worry man, help is on its way.” 

“Steve!” Steve turned around and saw Bucky running towards them, his face was covered in soot from running through the smoke. “Steve! I saw him!” Bucky made it to him, Steve looked him over for injures, but from what he could see there was none. However, once Bucky saw Clint on the ground he stopped, “Oh my God, what happened?”

“He was closer to the explosion than we were. It looks like some type of head trauma. The ambulance is on route.” Sam explained, Bucky kneeled down and pulled a flashlight out of his backpack. Bucky began to check Clint’s pupil response, the other man just groaned in response.

“Pupils are dilating and he’s conscious. That’s a good sign. Just try to keep his neck stable until the paramedics get here.” Bucky muttered, putting away the flashlight. Sam gave Steve a confused look, Steve just shrugged. Bucky noticing the look between the two men said, “I know some first aid,” He directed his gaze to Steve, “Like I said. I can handle myself.”

The ambulance and fire department arrived a few minutes later. Clint was quickly loaded into the back and driven to the nearest hospital. The bomb squad and more police cruisers showed up soon after. Steve, Sam and Bucky answered any questions they could but they were short and to the point, the men were worried about their friend. Paramedics checked both of Sam and Steve’s injuries and patched them up before clearing them. As soon as they were dismissed they ran back to their cars, Bucky called Natasha on the way to the hospital. 

The drive to the hospital was only about ten minutes, but to Steve it felt like hours. His thoughts kept flashing back to Clint writhing on the ground in pain and then back even further into his army days. Men screaming in agony while they bled out on the hot sand, clutching their fatal wounds knowing that there was nothing that could be done to save them. Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter and shook his head trying to get those thoughts out of his head. 

Bucky noticed Steve’s anxious behavior, knowing the symptoms all too well, “Steve? Steve are you okay?”

Steve didn’t tear his gaze off the road, “I’m fine.” His voice was distant and harsh, Bucky couldn’t help but flinch. He’d heard those words so many times over the years, mainly from himself. 

“If you need to talk or anything-“

“I said I’m fine Bucky.” Steve snapped without meaning too. Bucky swallowed and looked down at his lap. The rest of the car ride was filled with a tense silence. 

Once at the hospital, the doctors told them that Clint had been taken into emergency surgery that would most likely take a few hours. Natasha showed up a few minutes later, her eyes wide with fear, but her body was poised to kill. “What happened?” She asked, her eyes trailing over Bucky for a few moments, confused as to why he was there in the first place, before flicking to Steve.

“There was an explosion. Clinton was closer than we were, they had to rush him into surgery.” Steve reported trying to keep his composure.

“Wasn’t this just some average arms deal?” Natasha questioned.

“Something went wrong. We think it might’ve been a set up.” Sam stated. 

“For the dealer? Or for you guys?” Natasha’s mind was trying it’s best to understand why her fiancé was currently in surgery.

“We aren’t sure Nat. No one knows anything at the moment.” Steve placed a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder who in turn sighed and slumped into on the chairs of the waiting room. 

After a few hours Bucky decided to wash his face, he knew he was still covered in soot from the explosion. He excused himself and went into the restroom. Bucky splashed cold water on his face a couple times before patting it dry with a paper towel. He hadn’t realized his hand was shaking until he raised the towel to his face. Obviously the explosion had rattled him more than he’d originally believed. 

Bucky gasped when he looked behind him in the mirror and saw Steve. Bucky turned around to face Steve, “Everything okay?” He asked, expecting news on Barton. 

“No news on Clint,” Steve muttered before sighing, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier in the car Bucky. I was just thinking about-“

“About your time in the military right?” Steve eyebrows rose slightly, forcing Bucky to explain, “I know you were in the Army Steve, I don’t know why you left but I know war does some crazy shit to people.”

Steve nodded, unable to process words for a few moments. “Yeah but that doesn’t give me the excuse to snap at you.”

Bucky shook his head softly, “It’s okay Steve really I understand completely.”

Steve groaned and rubbed his eyes, thinking about the night over and over again had given him one killer headache. He paused remember a detail, “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier tonight when you ran up to me you said that ‘you saw him’ who did you see?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened, when he had seen Barton he’d completely forgotten about what he saw. “I think I saw the killer, I think he was there.”

“Oh my…please tell me you got a photo. Please make this night was not a complete disaster.”

Bucky’s lips formed into a small smile, “I got a few.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh guys I cannot begin to explain how all the comments and kudos make my day. Thank you all so much! I love that people are actually enjoying this story! Please don't be afraid to post comments and/or suggestions for the story :)
> 
> P.S. I am so excited! I got tickets for Wizard World on the 18th and guess who is meeting Sebastian Stan?!?!? I am so happy, there are no words for how excited I am!


	7. Chapter 7

A few more hours passed by before a doctor emerged from a set of double doors announcing Clint’s name. Natasha, whose head was resting on Bucky’s shoulder, shot to her feet instantly and walked over. Sam, Steve and Bucky close on her heels. 

“Are You Barton’s fiancé?” The doctor asked looking at Natasha. 

“Yes, I’m Natasha Romanov.” Bucky noted the stiffness in her posture but her eyes shone with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He is stable,” Natasha let out a breath of relief, “However, he does have a slight concussion, nothing a few days rest won’t fix; but what really concerns me is his ruptured eardrums caused by being in close proximity to the explosion.” 

“Is…is it permanent?” Natasha asked.

“It is too soon to tell. After he wakes up and is feeling well enough we will be able to run some tests. I will say the damage was pretty severe, it is unlikely that he will regain one-hundred percent of his hearing back.” 

“Can I go see him?” Natasha voice came up barely above a whisper.

The doctor nodded, “You can, I must ask that only one person at a time; we don’t want to cause him anymore discomfort.” 

Natasha only asked what room Clint was in before leaving. Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Why don’t you two get out of here. I’ll wait for Natasha, see if she needs anything.” Sam offered. 

“Nah, we’ll wait.” Steve stated, his eyes wandering over to Bucky. Bucky’s eyes were glassed over and he looked exhausted. 

As if Sam’s words just reached Bucky, the brunette shook his head slightly, “Yeah, we’ll wait.”

Sam chuckled slightly, “Seriously it’s okay. Steve take Barnes home, he looks like he’s about to fall asleep standing up. There isn’t much for all three of us to do here anyway.”

Steve gave Bucky a concerned look, “Alright, you promise to call if anything changes?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I’ll call. Go on and get some sleep you two.”

Steve gently grabbed Bucky’s arm and steered him out of the waiting room. Bucky told Steve where his apartment was but didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive; just continued to stare lifelessly out of the window. Steve was concerned for Bucky, he had never know for the man to be quiet but he assumed that he was still in shock over the events of the evening. Steve was itching to see the pictures that Bucky got of the killer and Bucky had promised to show them to Steve but he didn’t think that Bucky would be up to much of anything for the rest of the evening. 

Steve pulled up to the curb and put the car into park. Bucky looked down at his lap where his hands were placed and noticed his one was still trembling. “Steve?”   
Bucky’s voice was so quiet that Steve almost didn’t hear him, “Yeah Buck?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut quickly before opening them again, his cheeks flamed in embarrassment, “C-can you walk me up?” The explosion had brought up so many memories that he’d wished had been gone forever, and now the memories just couldn’t stop.

Steve nodded a small smile gracing his lips, “Of course.” 

The two men walked up to the apartment together, Bucky staring intently at his shoes the entire time. Steve was becoming seriously worried, he’d never seen Bucky like this and it honestly scared the hell out of him. They stopped at the door and Bucky unlocked the door, Steve scowled slightly when he saw just how bad Bucky’s hands were shaking. 

“Buck? Are you okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky swallowed and opened the door, ushering for Steve to follow him inside. Bucky was grateful that Natasha had left a light on. The last thing he wanted to was for Steve to see him have a complete meltdown. “Bucky? You didn’t answer my question, are you okay?”

Bucky took a shaky breath and set his backpack down, “I’ll be fine Steve. T-the explosion just got to me? I’ll be okay.” Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was trying to convince him or himself. Bucky walked over to the kitchen and pulled two glasses, “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I actually should be going.” Steve could’ve sworn he saw a flash of fear cross Bucky’s face, “Unless you want me to stay here. I could sleep on the couch or something.”

“You’d do that?” Bucky asked.

Steve smiled and closed the distance between himself and Bucky. He ran his thumb gingerly along the smaller man’s cheekbones, “Of course I would. I care about you Buck, if you would feel better if I stayed here tonight then I will happily sleep on the couch.” 

Bucky looked generally surprised before his cheeks burned red, “Thank you Steve.”

They talked for a few moments before Bucky retreated into his room, he’d given Steve a couple pillows and a blanket. The whole time thanking Steve repeatedly for staying the   
night. Steve dismissed each and every apology, and kept saying that it wasn’t a big deal. Finally they both said their goodnights and Bucky’s door shut. Steve stripped of his work pants and button-up shirt and laid down on the couch facing Bucky’s door. Steve waiting for Bucky’s light to turn off to show that Bucky had gone to bed but the light never turned off but he couldn’t hear Bucky rustling around anymore. 

Steve realized just then how little he knew about the man on the other side of the door. He didn’t know where he came from, what school he’d gone too, if he had any siblings. All he knew what that he was a reporter and had lost his left arm. Steve wondered why exactly the explosion had shaken Bucky up so badly, he’d seen dead bodies before and had covered multiple disasters all around the state. What about this evening’s events had caused Bucky to become so upset. They needed to get to know one another, if they had any future together they needed to be honest. 

It was this thought, the mere idea of telling Bucky about his past, which caused Steve a sleepless night. He was afraid that Bucky wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

***********

_“Barnes! Do you see anything? Is the area clear?” Dugan asked, his voice crackling over the radio._

_Bucky looked through his scope, he’d already taken out the enemy sniper and few other men without alerting the rest of the compound to their presence. “We are clear to proceed, over.” Without waiting for a reply from Dugan, Bucky slung his rifle over his shoulder and starting making his way over to his next vantage point. Bucky jumped from rooftop to rooftop before sliding to a stop. He set his rifle up and looked through the scope again, Bucky frowned, a man was supposed to be there. Their intel was airtight and according to the plans a guard was supposed to be passing by right now._

_“Dugan. Something’s not right.” Bucky stated, but when he didn’t hear a response from Dugan he only became increasingly concerned, “Dugan do you copy?” That’s when he heard shots erupting from to his right. Bucky’s eyes grew wide, the shots were coming from the area he’d already supposedly cleared._

_“Dammit Barnes! We’re taking heavy fire! Get back over here!” Dugan’s voice sounded flustered making Bucky get to his feet and run back in the direction he’d already been. Bucky managed to make it to the next rooftop before he heard a high-pitched sound that he knew all too well. Bucky didn’t have time to do anything before his whole world erupted._

“Bucky! Bucky!” Bucky’s eyes snapped open, he looked around frantically before his eyes settled on a concerned looking Steve right above him. 

“S-Steve?” Bucky muttered, he could feel that his skin was clammy with sweat and that his hair stuck to the back of his neck. His chest was heaving and his heart rattled against his ribcage. 

“Yeah, it’s me Buck. You’re okay, it was just a nightmare. You’re fine, you are home. You’re okay.” Steve’s voice was quiet and reassuring but Bucky could see that his eyes were wide with fear. 

“Oh…oh my God. Steve I’m so sorry!” Bucky’s face flushed with humiliation when he finally realized that he must’ve woken Steve up because he’d been screaming. He blushed even deeper when he noticed that his prosthetic was also off; very few people ever saw him with what was left of his left arm. The tissue was twisted and raised and the suturing at the end was puckered harshly. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I don’t care.” Steve stated, knowing that Bucky would be self-conscious of his arm so he avoiding looking in its direction, and stared directly into Bucky’s eyes, “You’re fine.”

Bucky nodded slowly and ran his hand through his damp hair, Bucky winced he knew he must look like shit and Steve was acting like none of that mattered. “I’m sorry Steve. I-I shouldn’t have asked you to stay the night. You must think I’m crazy.”

“No Bucky, I’m glad I stayed the night. Do…Do you get nightmares often?” Steve extended his arm and began to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky leaned slightly into his touch.

“Uh…I haven’t had ones this bad for a while. B-but the last couple nights have been worse than normal.” Bucky muttered, “It must be this case. I’m sorry I woke you Steve. But I’m okay now, you can go back to sleep.”

Steve sighed knowing that Bucky wasn’t going to divulge in any more details tonight. Steve kissed Bucky’s forehead and got up off the bed. He walked over to the lamp that was still on, “You must’ve fallen asleep with this on, would you like me to turn it off?” 

Steve hand was already reaching for the switch when he heard Bucky’s voice shout, “No!” Steve looked over at Bucky in surprise over the man’s sudden outburst, Bucky opened his mouth but no words came out. 

“Alright, I’ll leave it on.” Bucky couldn’t help but notice Steve’s small smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Goodnight Buck.”

Bucky waited for Steve to leave the room before he groaned and put his face in his hand. He could feel tears burning his eyes but he blinked quickly a few time to keep them at bay. He knew that Steve deserved to know the truth about him, what he’d done and why he was the way he was. Bucky was terrified that as soon as Steve knew the truth that’d he would never want to see him again. 

Bucky sighed and decided to go take a shower, he needed to get his thoughts in order. If he was going to tell Steve the truth then he needed to do so with a clear head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Please leave kudos and comments, they give me inspiration, and inspiration means shorter times between chapters ; )  
> Seriously though you guys are awesome!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth.

Steve woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. He rubbed his eyes and groggily sat up, momentarily confused to where he was. Then he remembered the events of the night before, the hair-raising screams that had woken him up in the middle of the night. He was at Bucky’s apartment. He turned around and saw Bucky in the kitchen, his back was turned to Steve and his brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun. 

Steve quietly stood up and walked into the kitchen, “Making breakfast?” He asked, Bucky jumped slightly before turning around. Steve noted the dark circles under his eyes and realized that Bucky probably never went back to sleep. 

Bucky smiled slightly, “Uh, yeah. I figured it was the least I could do after last night. I am so sorry again Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “Really Bucky, it’s no problem.” 

Bucky snorted softly and went back to making breakfast. “If you want some coffee the cups are in the cupboard right next to the sink.” Bucky stated. Steve nodded, grabbed a mug and poured some of the steaming liquid in the cup. 

After Bucky finished making breakfast the two were seated at the small table next to the kitchen. Steve tried not to stare as he watched Bucky’s hand tremble slightly as he brought his mug to his lips. He could see the fear and anxiety that swarmed in those pale blue. Steve had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around the smaller man and kiss him until all his pain went away. 

“Do you have to work today?” Bucky asked quietly peering over at Steve under his eyelashes. 

Steve shook his head, “Fury told me to take a day off before resuming work on the case. I guess he wants me well rested.”

Bucky nodded but didn’t say anything. He continued to push his eggs around his plate and Steve was getting seriously worried. The explosion had really gotten to Bucky and Steve wanted nothing more than comfort him. 

“Bucky,” Steve waited for Bucky to look up at him before continuing, “Are you okay?”

Bucky let out a shaky breath, “Um…no. I-I’m not okay…there’s something I need to tell you…G-god but I’m so scared Steve.” Steve looked at Bucky with wide eyes, Bucky looked terrified and he could see that Bucky’s bottom lip trembled slightly. 

Steve took a deep breath, “There’s no reason to be scared Bucky; and honestly there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you as well. We need to be honest with each other Buck.” Steve wrapped his hands around Bucky’s and squeezed them gently. “I can go first if you think that would help you.”

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a breath before opening them, “Y-yes. I think that would be best.”

Steve nodded, “Alright. You know I was in the Army right?” Steve waited for Bucky to nod once before continuing, “I joined right out of high school. My whole family had always been a military family, my dad was in the army, my dad’s dad was in the military so it only seemed right that as soon as I graduated that I sign up to serve my country. In the army I excelled, I’ve always been good with following orders and I knew just how to move up in the ranks. After about four years I had already worked my way up to a Major and I lead a unit of my own.” Steve ran one of his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I did not think it would be this hard.” 

Steve lifted his eyes to look at Bucky who was eagerly listening for more. “I ran this this unit for two years. We were one of the most successful teams, we had a ninety-five percent success rate. T-these men were like my family, we trusted each other, we had each other’s backs. We worked so well together.” Steve closed his eyes and let out a quivering sigh, “Of course that was until we got assigned a covert mission in Germany. It was supposed to be an easy extraction of a known terrorist, in and out, b-but it went wrong. I-I messed up, our team was at the wrong place, it had been a setup. I lead my unit into a trap. They blew up the building we had been in. Most of my men died, I was able to drag out one of my comrades; him and I were the only survivors. You know what the worst thing was? After we got back I was promoted to a Captain. I single handedly led my entire unit to their deaths and they promote me.” Steve tone turned bitter towards the end and Bucky winced faintly as Steve snapped the last word.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Bucky murmured his voice so quiet that Steve almost didn’t hear him. Bucky was staring intently at his hands, hands that seemed to shake worse since Steve began to speak. 

“Buck, I know you don’t know much about the military but I was their leader. They followed my orders.” Bucky stood up abruptly, the chair scratching against the wooden floor. Steve scowled and rose to his feet. Bucky walked into his room and Steve followed him, Bucky jerked open a drawer in his desk and was sifting through the contents before his hand enclosed around an object. “Bucky?” Steve called out, stepping closer to the shaking brunette. 

Bucky whipped around and shoved the object into his hands. The metal was cold in his palms, Steve look down and let out a shocked gasp. They were dog tags and Bucky’s name was pressed into them. “Y-you were in the military?” Steve asked, Bucky looked up and Steve could see the pain in his eyes. They were brimmed with tears but Bucky blinked them away. 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th.” Bucky released a trembled sigh before continuing, “I know exactly what it’s like Steve. I know that it wasn’t you fault. Y-you were not responsible for the deaths of your men because I know just what it is like to be responsible.” Bucky’s voice cracked while Steve looked at him with a stunned expression. 

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice was strained with emotion, Bucky shook his head wildly making strands of his hair fall into his face. 

“I was supposed to clear the area. I was their sniper, I was responsible for their safety. I had to take out all of the threats from above while they snuck into the compound and got what we had been assigned there for.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and a few tears unwillingly rolled down his cheeks, “But I failed them. They were outgunned. They took out the building I was on with a RPG, the whole thing crumbled around me. I-I was stuck under a mountain of ruble with my arm wedged underneath a slab of concrete for three days before anyone found me. When they did find me I was barely alive, my arm was so infected that they had to amputate it at the scene so they could get me to a hospital.” Steve stared at Bucky, not knowing what to say, “Steve, I know all too well about being responsible. I was the only survivor, not one of the men from my unit survived. The rest of my men were slaughtered, they died because I wasn’t good enough. I failed to save anyone. I was the reason that they all died, because I failed to do my job.” Bucky’s whole body shook and his eyes shone with tears. 

Steve took another step forward and put his hands on either side of Bucky’s face. Suddenly everything made sense, Bucky’s fluid movements on the rooftop, his fearlessness, Bucky had been a sniper and Steve was shocked that he hadn’t seen it sooner. Steve gently wiped away the trail of tears with his thumbs. “I cannot imagine what that must’ve been like. I am so sorry that you had to go through that.”

Bucky jerked his head away, “I-I’m broken Steve. I can’t even sleep without a light on because the darkness just takes me back to that hell, back to being stuck with no way out. God Steve, I’m so sorry I’m pathetic. I’ll understand if you want nothing to do with me.” 

“Bucky I need you to look at me,” Bucky’s eyes slowly rose to meet Steve’s, “You are not pathetic. You are strong and the bravest man I’ve ever met. You survived a terrible ordeal and I’d be worried if nothing inside you changed from it. I want what’s between us to grow, I cannot imagine my life without you in it. I’m sorry Buck, but you can’t get rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me until the end of the line pal.” 

A small smile graced Bucky’s lips, “You mean that?”

Steve kissed Bucky’s forehead gently and murmured, “Every single word.”

**********

The two men spent the day together. After their confessions in the morning they were able to talk about their pasts easily. Steve found out that, like himself, Bucky was born and raised in Brooklyn. He also found out that Bucky’s only living relative was his younger sister Rebecca, but she lived in Florida, so they didn’t see each other very often. Steve told Bucky about how his mother had raised him by herself after his father had been killed, and that she died from cancer a few months after Steve had enlisted in the military. Steve was amazed at how easy it was to talk with Bucky, and he felt better than he had in a long time.

They made sure to visit Clint in the hospital, the man was on heavy painkillers and could barely keep his eyes open. His hearing had returned a little but the doctors were beginning to assume that he would need hearing aids for the rest of his life. Bucky had brought some of Natasha’s belongings from the apartment because she refused to leave Clint’s bedside. Sam had already left so Steve and Bucky stayed for few hours to keep Natasha company. 

They returned to the apartment and Bucky began to search through the pictures he had taken from the exchange site. He printed out any that he believed had the killer in it. Steve picked up one of the pictures and examined it. He could make out a figure hiding behind the corner of a building. The man, from what Steve could tell, was covered in head-to-toe black. He could also see that the mask that the killer was wearing had some white markings on it, but the picture wasn’t clear enough to see what exactly the marking were.  
Steve set down the image and picked up another one, “How did you even see this guy in the first place?”

Bucky snorted and began to print out another photo, “In the army I was trained to look in the shadows, to completely take in my surroundings.” Bucky stepped closer to Steve and looked at the picture he was holding in his hands, “Does he look familiar? I was hoping you’d maybe recognize the body armor or something.”

Steve shook his head, “No, I wish I did but there is nothing recognizable about this man. I guess we’re back to square one huh?”

Bucky hummed, “Not necessarily, I may know a guy that could have some information; but he isn’t the easiest person to get a hold of.”

“Who is he?” Steve asked.

Bucky smirked, “I’m not gonna say. I’ll try to get in touch with him, see if I can set up a meeting. In the mean time we really need to figure out who the Kingpin really is. If we find out his real name we may be able to cross reference some names. Obviously this killer has a grudge against Kingpin and he doesn’t care who gets in his way.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Tomorrow I’ll try to look through more records of Hell’s Kitchen see if maybe this Kingpin guy is a public figure down there. It would make sense if he had political pull in the area so he can keep the spotlight off of himself.”

Bucky groaned, “This whole thing is a mess. I just hope we catch him before any more innocent people get hurt.”

Steve kissed Bucky, “Me too Buck. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yelp...I wasn't very sure about this chapter so hopefully it was okay. But now you know both of their stories and these boys can finally move on to fully trusting one another.
> 
> I wanted to get another chapter out before this weekend...because I'm meeting Sebastian Stan this weekend! OMG I have no idea what I'm gonna say!
> 
> Anywho, please tell me what you thought about the chapter, I really love reading all your guy's comments. Thank you all so much for your continued support.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve really wished he hadn’t promised Bucky a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll didn't notice I added a co-author! She's amazing and everyone should go check out her stuff!

Steve walked into the precinct with two cups of steaming coffee. As usual Sam already sat at his desk, his eyes glued intently on the screen in front of him. Steve set down one of the cups in front of his partner.

Sam groaned, grabbed the cup and took a sip, “Thank you so much man.”

Steve sat down, “How long have you been here, Sam?”

Sam shrugged, “A couple hours. I want to find the bastard that put Clint in the hospital. This guy is escalating fast, and I do not want to find out what his last step in his master plan is.”

Steve hummed in agreement and pulled out the photos that Bucky had taken at the exchange site and handed them to Sam. The other detective took and shuffled through them, “Barnes actually got pictures of the killer? Got to give it to you, Steve, your boyfriend is quite impressive with a camera.”

Steve felt his cheeks flush, “He’s not my boyfriend, Sam.” Sam cocked an eyebrow and Steve mumbled, “At least not yet. We haven’t made anything official or anything. But that’s not what we should be talking about right now anyway. Is the guy in the mask ringing any bells? He didn’t look familiar to me.”

Sam shook his head and set the pictures down on the desk, “No, but I wish I did. This case is just one dead end after another.” Sam rubbed his eyes and yawned, “I just wish we could catch one break, we haven’t been able to figure out anything.”

Steve nodded and took another drink of his coffee and began to search through files about Hell’s Kitchen. He eliminated any files about petty crimes; Steve knew that the Kingpin would not dirty his hands over small things such as breaking and entering. There were so many police reports from Hell’s Kitchen that Steve knew he would have to cut it down even further. And there were even more politicians that promised to clean up the streets; Steve was certain with how powerful and manipulative that Kingpin was that he had to be politician.

“Steve, look at this,” Sam stated pointing at this screen

Steve stood up and looked over Sam’s shoulder at the computer. Sam had pointed out an article about a rising politician that was running for mayor in Hell’s Kitchen, a man named Wilson Fisk, who had been born and raised on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The article praised Fisk for helping out the neighborhood and not giving up on its people. However, what sparked Steve’s interest was that it also stated that ever since Fisk has been a known figure in the area that the crime rates in Hell’s Kitchen has spiked to unseen rates.

“This could be something, Sam. If Fisk is as popular as this article states he is, he’d have full run of Hell’s Kitchen. Nobody would stand in his way.They’d be too scared,” Steve stated and Sam nodded.

“Plus look at the size of the guy! Man, I bet even you would look tiny if you stood next to him.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and smacked the back of Sam’s head playfully.

“Well I think it’s time we had a chat with Mr. Fisk,” Steve said, grabbing his coat and his coffee. Sam did the same and they walked out of the building.

It had just started to rain when they pulled up right outside of Wilson Fisk’s office in the heart of downtown Manhattan. Steve found it a bit ironic that a guy that claimed to want to clean up the streets of Hell’s Kitchen didn’t even have his office in the area. They walked into the office building and were greeted by a middle-aged woman at the front desk.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” She asked, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Steve and Sam both pulled out their badges and flashed them to the secretary. Her smile faltered for only a second before she caught it and smiled even larger.

“We are here to see Mr. Fisk,” Sam stated his tone polite.

She cocked her head, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I am afraid we don’t, but we only need a few minutes,” Sam replied.

She laughed gently while shaking her head, “Well, I am sorry but without an appointment I cannot let you in. You see, Mr. Fisk is a really busy man and he doesn’t have time deviate from his schedule.”

“I’m sure he could make an exception,” Sam stated; Steve heard the rising frustration in his partner’s voice.

The secretary narrowed her eyes slightly but kept the smile on her face, “I am sorry, but Mr. Fisk does not have an opening until Thursday morning. I can pencil you two in if you’d like.”

Steve was about to reply when a booming voice made him jump slightly, “Now, now Janet we want to do whatever we can to help our boys in blue.” Steve turned to look at the man and his eyes widened. The man was huge, probably at least six or seven inches taller than Steve and most likely outweighed him by two-hundred pounds.

The secretary, Janet, nodded curtly and glared at Sam who was grinning, “Of course, sir.”

Fisk ushered Sam and Steve into his office and shut the door behind them. “So, what can I help you with, detectives?” Fisk asked, “I am sorry but I only have a few minutes to spare.”

“Well we were wondering, sir, if you had any information about the three attacks throughout Brooklyn that have happened in the last few days,” Steve asked.

Fisk shook his head, “I hope you didn’t come all the way down here for that, detectives. I am sorry. All I know is what that reporter - - Barnes is it? - - wrote about in the paper. Some gang war right?”

Steve nodded and tried not to flinch at Bucky’s name; just the fact that someone like Fisk knew it did not sit well with Steve. “Yes we believe that this may be the beginnings of some type of turf war or something. However, we know that you are heavily involved in Hell’s Kitchen where we think one of the gangs originates.”

Fisk chuckled, “Sadly there is a lot of criminal activity down in Hell’s Kitchen and a lot of different gangs. You will have to be more specific.”

“Does the name Kingpin ring any bells with you?” Sam questioned, Steve’s eyes snapped to Sam. Fisk smirked slightly but Steve couldn’t help noticing that he tightened his grip on the walking stick in his hand.

“I am sorry but that name does not sound familiar. I do apologize detectives but I must be going. I do have a campaign to run. If you need to ask any more questions please don’t hesitate to contact Janet to schedule an appointment.” Fisk opened the door and motioned for them step outside his office.

Once inside their cruiser Sam sighed deeply and started the car. “That guy is something else. He has to be the Kingpin. Did you see how he reacted when I mentioned the name? Steve, this is our guy.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, “He’s one of them, but how are we going to prove it?”

“Have your boy tag him for a few nights. I’m sure Fisk’ll do something illegal and then we will be able to bring him in and question him,” Sam suggested.

Steve looked over at Sam, shocked, “I am not having Bucky, who is a civilian might I remind you, tag a suspected crime lord so that we can just get a few minutes with him.”

“Barnes can take care of himself. We both saw the pictures that he took at the scene, I didn’t even know he was there.” Steve couldn’t believe Sam was even thinking about this. Steve knew that Bucky could take care of himself, but he wasn’t about to put him purposely put him in danger. Steve did not want to trigger anymore episodes. After what happened two nights ago, the piercing screams that Steve had heard, he would do anything in his power to keep Bucky from having any more nightmares.

“No, Sam. I’m not even arguing this with you. He may have been a sniper in the Army, but Bucky is not going to tail Fisk, end of story.”

Sam retorted, “Whatever you say Cap,” eyes narrowing.

Steve opened his mouth to retort but his phone went off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Rogers,” he answered.

“Steve? Can you talk?” Steve immediately recognized Bucky’s voice.

“Of course. What’s up, Buck?” Steve swatted away Sam elbow that jabbed into his side. He turned to scowl at his best friend who, in return, made a slicing gesture with his hand. Steve ignored it.

“I got that meeting with that guy. He says he’s only available this evening, and then he’ll be gone for a couple months.” Bucky’s voice sounded tired, and Steve really wished the other man would try and get some rest.

“That’s great, what time is the meeting?”

“It’s at ten. I was hoping you’d come with me but you have promise me something.”

Steve took a deep breath, “Alright what is it?”

“You have to promise you won’t arrest him.”

Steve froze and a jolt went down his spine, “Jesus, Bucky, who is this guy?” Steve saw Sam flick his attention over for a moment before returning his gaze to the road.

“I’m not going to tell you. He agreed to help Steve, and I won’t let you come if you are going to arrest him.” Bucky’s tone was serious and Steve groaned.

“Alright, I won’t arrest him. What time am I picking you up?”

“At nine. It’ll take about an hour to get to the meet site. See you then.” Steve didn’t have time to ask any more questions before Bucky hung up. Steve snapped his phone shut and rubbed his eyes. These last couple days have been a lot to handle, but Steve wasn’t about to ignore the first lead that they had, even if that meant he might have let a smaller criminal sneak by.

The rest of the day went by agonizingly slow. Steve did a lot more research on Wilson Fisk, while Sam seemed to be looking into a possible ex-military connection, and by the end of shift Steve was pretty sure Fisk was the Kingpin: ever since Fisk has been running things down in Hell’s Kitchen the criminal activity skyrocketed, Fisk wanted to pass a controversial bill that would potentially release a lot of criminals out of prison, and he wanted to cut the budget to the police unit down in the area. Steve felt certain this was their guy, but he had no idea how to prove it. A man with as much power as Wilson Fisk did not leave a trail of evidence linking himself to any illegal activity.

Finally it was time to leave to pick up Bucky. Sam had left a few hours before so that he could visit Clint before heading home; he seemed to be lost in troubling thoughts, but hadn’t communicated them to Steve. Steve grabbed his things and turned off the lamp that was on his desk before leaving the precinct. The icy winds felt like they cut through Steve’s skin so he huddled his shoulders together to try to preserve any body heat he had left. He hurried to the car and began the drive to Bucky’s apartment.

When he arrived Bucky waited for him outside. He had shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his hood over his head. Bucky ran to the passenger side and slid into the car seat. “Christ it’s cold. Thanks for coming with me, Steve.” Bucky removed his hood; his dark hair was pulled haphazardly into a bun and a few strands of hair escaped the elastic, framing his face. Steve noticed immediately how tired Bucky looked and he decided that after the meeting he would do anything to help Bucky get some sleep.

Steve cleared his throat and nodded, “Of course. Now where are we going?”

Bucky gave him the address, and Steve began the drive. They talked lightly on the way to their destination, but as they got closer Steve became more and more anxious. He had no idea who they were meeting or how dangerous he could be. Obviously the guy was a known criminal because Bucky made Steve promise not to arrest him. Steve tightened his grip on the wheel when he pulled alongside a rundown apartment building.

Steve looked at the rundown building warily, “You sure this is it?”

Bucky nodded and opened his door, “Oh yeah, this is it.”

They got out of the car and Steve followed Bucky into the building; he crinkled his nose in disgust as soon as they entered the complex. The air around him smelled putrid and the peeling walls were stained a disgusting yellow color. They took the stairs up to the third floor before Bucky finally stopped in front of a door, raised his fist, and knocked three times. Steve had to fight the urge to pull his gun out of his holster; he heard someone rustling around behind a door before a loud crash followed by a muffled, “Fuck.” Steve looked down at Bucky with a concerned glance but, Bucky just smirked and shrugged his shoulder.

Suddenly the door opened and Steve was met with a heavily scarred man. When he saw Bucky the man smiled, “Well if it isn’t my favorite amputee.”

Steve gasped at the brashness of the man then suddenly remembered he looked familiar. In front of him stood Wade Wilson, a mercenary that was responsible for multiple assaults and homicides. Steve really wished he hadn’t promised Bucky a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and what not. I love hearing what you guys are thinking!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve meet with Wade.

Wade opened the door further and Bucky stepped inside, an anxious Steve close behind him.

Steve looked around at the apartment and had to keep himself from scrunching up his nose just from the smell alone. Stains covered the walls, ranging from yellow to red, and the tacky wallpaper Steve assumed had once been a floral design but now peeled away showing the wooden studs. An old antennae TV set and a couch that had multiple holes and stains stood in the center of the room. The small kitchen tucked away on the right side of the room looked like it hadn’t been used in years, the faucet leaked and there was a stack of old pizza and takeout boxes piled high on the small countertop. Steve looked at Bucky who seemed unfazed by the conditions of the room that surrounded them.

Wade shut the door and turned to face them, a big smile on his face. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck before pulling his backpack off his shoulders and beginning to search through its contents, “We were hoping that you had some information about somebody.” Bucky pulled out a few pictures and handed them over to Wade.

Wade’s eyes searched the pictures before shrugging, “Sure, I’ve heard of this guy. Relatively new to the scene though.”

Steve widened his eyes slightly, “You know him? Who is he?”

“I wouldn’t say I know the guy. It’s not like we have sleepovers and gossip while stuffing our faces full of chimichangas or anything. I said I’ve heard of him,” Wade stated and Steve rolled his eyes while sighing loudly.

“You have a name, Wilson? This guy is really dangerous.” Steve snapped.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Wade smirked playfully at Steve, who only groaned in distaste.

“Anything you could tell us would be helpful.” Bucky jumped in before Steve ended up punching their only lead that they had. Bucky shot Steve a glare and Steve simply rolled his eyes in return.

“Look all I know is a codename. He goes by Crossbones, I guess he leaves X’s on all his victims’ eyes, neat trademark I must say. I wish I had come up with something as creative, but it’s too late now, right?” Wade smiled at Steve’s bewildered expression.

“You can’t be serious! Are you for real?” Steve exclaimed; he could not fathom how this man could make light of people - -innocent or not - - being killed and maimed.

Wade held out his hands in a mock surrender, “I can tell you I am one hundred percent real. Seriously Barnes where did you dig this guy up from? I think he is about as clean-cut as they come.”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair, making a few strands come loose, and released a nervous chuckle, “He just isn’t used to your kind of . . . um . . . your lifestyle I guess. Is there any more you can tell us?” Bucky tried desperately to change the subject, from the look on Steve’s face if this conversation went much longer Wade might have a new injury to show off. Bucky wasn’t used to being the mediator, usually it was Steve or Natasha that had to keep him in check. Bucky felt totally out of his comfort zone.

Wade shrugged, “Like I said, he is relatively new to the scene. Started taking out people just a few months ago. The weird thing is that he was only taking out petty criminals and a few drug dealers here and there. I figured he was some lame ass vigilante or something.”

“He’s definitely moved to higher risk targets. We’re thinking that he might be going after this Kingpin guy. Any reason someone would want to take him out?” Steve asked.

Wade laughed, “Name a reason not to take out the Kingpin. The guy has a hold of one of the largest turfs in New York City and his profits from his drug and weapons deals is huge. Kill the Kingpin and you get his turf. It’s just the way us criminals work.”

Bucky nodded, “Alright so Crossbones wants to take out the Kingpin for the power he holds. Makes sense, but wouldn’t he need some henchmen or something? If he really plans on succeeding then he can’t be working alone.”

“That’s because he isn’t. He’s been recruiting a few guys from around the city. Apparently he is quite picky about who he accepts into his ranks. Some guys from the bar were complaining about being denied entry or some shit.” Wade walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer; he offered both Steve and Bucky one who both turned down the offer, before cracking it open and taking a sip. “No one even knows what the guy looks like. I guess he’s always wearing that freaky mask.”

The three men talked for a few more minutes, and, when it was obvious that Wade did not have any more information on Crossbones, Bucky decided it was time to go. He knew as soon as Wade started to drink that his humor only became more twisted, and Bucky knew it would only be a matter of time before Steve threw the first punch. He grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him out of the dilapidated apartment, promising Wade that he’d visit when he got back into town, and ushered Steve out of the complex. It had begun to rain again, and it was so heavy that Steve could barely see out of the windshield. Steve asked Bucky if it was okay if they went to his house, because it was closer, and Bucky simply nodded. They remained silent for the rest of the drive, the soft patter of raindrops on the roof the only sound.

Steve pulled up to his townhome and parked the car. The rain only seemed to get worse and by the time Steve managed to unlock the front door both men were soaked.

Bucky’s whole body trembled and he mentally cursed himself for only wearing a thin coat.

Once inside Steve quickly hung up his jacket by the front door and rubbed his hands together, “It’s freezing.” He turned to face Bucky and frowned slightly, “You’re soaked.”

“N-no s-s-shit, Sh-Sherlock,” Bucky snapped through clattering teeth. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him into the bedroom, Bucky cocked an eyebrow and smirked, “T-trying to get m-me in b-bed, R-Rogers?”

Steve scoffed and rummaged through his dresser before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He playfully shoved the clothes into Bucky’s arms and smirked, “Trying to keep you from getting hypothermia you jerk. Now change, and I’m going to start a pot of coffee.” He directed Bucky to the closest bathroom and quickly changed into fresh clothes himself before padding into his small kitchen and making some coffee. A few minutes later Bucky made his way into the kitchen and Steve couldn’t help but smile. His sweatpants hung low on Bucky’s hips even with the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go, and the shirt draped loosely over his torso. He looked adorable.

Steve handed Bucky a cup, who took it graciously, then took a small sip, “So are we not going to talk about how you know a dangerous mercenary?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Wade isn’t dangerous, at least not to me. He was in my unit actually.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, “Wade Wilson was in the military? No way!”

Bucky nodded, taking another drink, “Yeah, he was really good too. That was until his truck ran over an IED. Whole thing caught on fire, we dragged him out but as you saw most of his body was covered in burns. Never really was the same after that. I like to keep in touch with him, make sure he’s alright.”

Steve sighed and turned around to refill his coffee, “Bucky, the guy is danger . . .“ Steve gasped when he felt Bucky’s warm breath on his neck, which turned to groan when Bucky began to place kisses down Steve’s neck and onto his shoulder. Steve turned and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist pulling the brunette closer. “Whatcha doin’, Buck?”

Bucky grinned, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Steve kissed Bucky, “I believe you are trying to change the subject.”

Bucky nipped at Steve’s ear and whispered, “Is it working?”

Steve groaned in response and cupped Bucky’s face between his hands. Steve’s lips crashed with Bucky’s, whose arms quickly wrapped tightly around Steve, bringing their bodies even closer. Steve’s tongue pressed against Bucky’s lips, and Bucky opened his mouth slightly. Steve jumped at the opportunity to explore. He bit down lightly on Bucky’s bottom lip and tugged, Bucky made a noise from the back of his throat which caused Steve’s chest to burn with desire. Steve backed Bucky up and lifted the smaller man on the counter without breaking the kiss. Bucky pulled at Steve shirt and lifted it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side; his warm breath made a shiver run down Steve’s spine. Bucky placed open-mouthed kisses on Steve’s shoulder and moved down to his chest. The blond made a low noise and picked Bucky up again. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist and continued his assault on Steve’s very sensitive neck. Steve stumbled into the bedroom and flopped Bucky onto the bed.

“Now,” Steve breathed looking down at Bucky sprawled on his bed, “I am trying to get you in bed.”

“Looks like you already got me there,” Bucky murmured.

Steve laid his body over Bucky’s and continued the kissing. Steve’s erection was almost painfully hard and he ground down on Bucky’s hips. Bucky arched his back and met Steve’s thrusts. Steve’s fingers tightened around the hem of Bucky’s shirt and began to lift it up the smaller man’s chest. Bucky’s hand quickly wrapped around Steve’s, stopping him just before he could remove the shirt completely.

“Steve…” Bucky’s breathing was labored and it took Steve a moment to realize that the brunet was anxious about Steve seeing the prosthetic.

Steve shook his head and placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s forehead. “I don’t care, Buck. Every part of you is beautiful.” He began to kiss the skin just above Bucky’s navel. That seemed to work because Bucky allowed Steve to remove the rest of his shirt. Steve propped himself up on his forearms and shifted so that he was kissing Bucky’s lips again. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and the two men and the two men lost themselves in swirling tongues and desperate nips.

Steve moved down and kissed Bucky’s chest. He continued down until he kissed the skin right above the band where the sweatpants clung to Bucky’s narrow hips. Steve looked up at Bucky, waiting for the man’s approval. When Bucky nodded his head once, Steve pulled the pants down. He gripped Bucky’s hips and pulled him to the edge of the bed. Steve fell to his knees and, without warning, took Bucky’s entire length into his mouth and throat.

“Fuck!” Bucky cried, his hand quickly finding Steve’s hair. “Fuck, Stevie.”

Steve quickly found a rhythm, and Bucky arched his back pushing himself deeper. Bucky’s fingers tightened on Steve’s hair and he kept repeating, “Fuck . . . Fuck you’re perfect.”

Steve hollowed his cheeks and made a small humming noise from the back of his throat. Bucky threw his head back and murmured, “Steve . . . Stevie I’m gonna . . .” That was all the warning Steve got before Bucky came. He swallowed every last drop before he looked back up. Bucky’s eyes were half closed and his cheeks were flushed with release.

Bucky, whose hand was still clutching Steve’s hair, slid his arm down and tugged Steve over so that their lips crashed violently. Bucky pushed his hand past the hemline of Steve’s pants before gripping Steve’s aching member tightly in his hand. Steve groaned and pushed his hips up to meet Bucky’s hand. It only took a few skilled pumps of Bucky’s wrist before Steve released, too.

The two men looked at each other, both of their faces flushed and their chests heaving, before leaning close and kissing with an aching sweetness..

They quickly cleaned up before Steve laid back down on the bed. Bucky crawled in and laid down next to him, Steve wrapping his arm around Bucky, who rested his head on Steve’s bare chest. He rubbed circles on Bucky’s lower back and within a few minutes the brunet was asleep.

Steve watched Bucky for a while, the smaller man looked so much younger when he was asleep.

Reaching over, Steve turned on the light on his bedside table, remembering Bucky’s insistence on leaving his own light on at his apartment. He kissed Bucky’s head one last time before letting his eyelids fall. Seconds later Steve was asleep. 

It was the best night’s rest he’d gotten in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp...this was my first attempt at smut so hopefully it was okay. Sam helped a lot so you can all thank her for it being a lot better than it was :)  
> Thank you all for your continued support and love for the story...it really makes our day to see that people are enjoying it. Like always please feel free to comment, we always enjoy reading what ya'll have to say. 
> 
> Just a head's up...next chapter shit is gonna hit the fan.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is another murder. Sam and Steve have an argument.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Clint had been released from the hospital, but his hearing, as the doctors warned, hadn’t returned fully. The former narcs officer was sent home on leave and Natasha was helping him adjust to the new hearing aids, which he felt made him look like an old man. Fortunately, after their first night together, Steve had given Bucky a key to the townhome, so Bucky spent most of his over there; Steve made him feel safe, and that was something he hadn’t had for a long time. He needed that feeling of safety as, after writing about the dockside bombing and an officer getting injured, he’d been unable to produce another article for Smith, and wasn’t permitted to publish his Crossbones photos. He could have gone behind Fury’s back, but that Captain terrified him. Unfortunately, with two new killings, Steve and Sam had been swamped at work. These were higher profile victims but still had been marked with the tell-tale X’s over the eye. Steve and Sam pulled double shifts to try to find some lead on Crossbones or Fisk, but kept coming up empty. Sam even seemed to be doing research on his own, but the detective refused to share with his partner.

Finally, the stress and Sam’s secretive behavior drew the partners into the biggest argument they’d ever had.

Steve had been walking back to his desk, a cup of coffee in his hand, when he saw Sam quickly minimize a tab he’d been looking at before pulling up another one. Steve, frustrated and tired, snapped “Whatcha looking at there, Sam?”

Sam shrugged not taking his eyes off the screen, “An article on Wilson Fisk.” 

Steve huffed, “What were you looking at before that?”

Sam, shaking his head, answered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about man. I was just looking at this article.”

“But you were looking at another as I came over. I saw you switch it.” Steve frowned at the other detective. He wasn’t about to let this go, his partner had been way too secretive over the last few weeks.

Sam narrowed his eyes, whirling around. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I’m looking at. I’m cross-referencing your boyfriend with each of the crimes by this supposed ‘Crossbones’ guy.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Steve asked, “You mean Bucky? What’s he got to do with anything?”

Taking a deep breath, Sam shook his head again. “I’m just clearing him . . . like you should’a done the moment he showed up at a scene with information on a crime lord.” He rested his hands lightly on his mouse and keyboard but didn’t make an attempt to open his other document.

“You’re clearing him? Then why are you acting like it’s a big secret? Ya’ could’ve just told me that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve looked down at his partner. His face contorted in confusion. 

Turning to look up at his long time partner, the darker man frowned and shook his head. “I would’ve told you when I had an answer, Man! I’m trying to look out for you, like partners do.” He looked back at the news report on Fisk and ground out, “Jeez, Steve, you barely know the guy and suddenly he’s living with you. Where’s your head? He could be after inside information, like’s he’s been doing all along . . .”

“Bucky isn’t like that. He wouldn’t use people like that, Sam. I know you don’t like the guy but this is crossing the line!” Steve snapped, his fists clenching in frustration and increasing anger. 

“Don’t like him?” Sam’s face contorted through a myriad of emotions, all negative, but ended in incredulous. “Steve, you’re thinking with . . . no, I am so not going there! You wanna see what I got on him? Fine!”

Before he could move, Fury’s voice rang over the office space. “Wilson! Rogers! Get the hell in my office!”

Steve heard as Sam grumbled something under his breath before pushing past him. Steve followed closely on his partner’s heels. Fury’s steely gaze met both men once they got inside the office. “What are you two shouting about?” Fury asked, his foot impatiently tapping on the floor.

“Nothing.” Steve and Sam replied quickly trying to avoid looking at each other and their angry boss.

Fury eyed both the men before stating, “You two are exhausted. Go home.” Both detectives looked up and opened their mouths to protest but Fury shot them a silencing glare. “Go home, get some rest. You’ll come back tomorrow and you will work together to catch this guy. Do I make myself clear?”

Nodding, both men answered, “Yes sir.”

“Good, now get out of my office.” Fury waved them away.

Steve turned on his heel and left the office, wanting nothing more than to go home. He heard the door slam behind him and he fought the urge to snap at Sam; but he quickly realized it wasn’t worth it. Steve grabbed his jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair and left without saying a single word to his partner.

Steve made it home - - and smiled softly when he saw Bucky’s sleeping form in his bed. The soft glow of the lamp cast shadows across Bucky’s face, and Steve could swear he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. Sam was wrong; there was no way that Bucky could be connected to any of the murders. Steve couldn’t even believe the thought had crossed Sam’s mind. 

Removing his shirt, pants, and shoes, Sam laid down next to Bucky. The smaller man mumbled something that Steve couldn’t quite understand and curled up next to Steve’s side. Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the last few weeks. Sure, he had a mass-murderer on his hands and a dangerous crime lord that they couldn’t link a damn thing too, but he had Bucky. Bucky was becoming his reason to wake up every morning, and the inspiration that drove him to put everything in him into catching this dangerous criminal; he wanted the world to be a safer place for Bucky.

The shrill ringing of his phone woke Steve. He groaned and felt Bucky shift besides him.

“What time is it?” Bucky mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

If Steve wasn’t so irritated that his phone was going off he would say something about how Bucky’s hair was sticking up in all different angles. “Too early,” Steve grumbled before answering the call. “Rogers.”

“Sorry, Detective, but I need you to come into work. There has been another attack.” Fury’s voice sounded direct on the phone and Steve couldn’t help but wonder if the man ever slept.

Steve sat up and ran a hand down his face, “Who’s the victim? Another drug-distributor?”

“Well, yes and no: the male victim was a weapons dealer, but the female victim had nothing to do with any sort of criminal activity. Neighbor called it in. Heard screaming,” Fury reported.

Steve’s eyebrows knotted together, “Are you sure this is the same guy? He’s never attacked a civilian before.”

“X’s on the eyes, Rogers. This is our guy.” Fury gave Steve the address for the apartment and told him that Sam would meet him there before hanging up.

Bucky sat up next to Steve and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Everything okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced over and looked at Bucky and noticed he’d removed his prosthetic the night before. Steve was happy that Bucky felt comfortable enough to remove the artificial arm around him; he knew how self-conscious the smaller man was about the mangled flesh underneath it. Steve shook his head in answer, “Our guy attacked a civilian: a man and a woman in her apartment. Sorry Bucky, I got to go. I’ll call you when I’m off. Feel free to stay here today.” Steve pulled away the covers and got out of bed. He turned and gave Bucky a quick kiss before getting ready. By the time Steve returned to the bedroom, dressed in his usual button-down and slacks, Bucky had once again curled under the covers fast asleep. Steve was glad to see that Bucky had gone back to sleep and wasn’t urging Steve to take him to the crime scene. The blond leaned down and kissed the brunet’s forehead before quietly leaving the bedroom.

The crime scene wasn’t that far from Steve’s home and he sighed at the sheer amount of police cruisers that surrounded the apartment building. He parked his car and rushed into the building. When he reached the apartment he saw Sam was already there, talking to an elderly man. Steve assumed that this was the neighbor that called it in. Nodding his head, Sam wrote down something in his notebook before snapping it shut and walking over to Steve. The detective didn’t seem too pleased to see his partner so soon after their brief argument, and Steve really couldn’t blame him; he didn’t feel much like seeing Sam right then, either.

“Victims are Nicole and George Brown, siblings, she was twenty-nine years old and he thirty-three. She worked as a paralegal down at Matt Murdock’s office. And I’m sure Fury told you about the male victim’s employment. From what the neighbor said, this is Nicole’s apartment but George was staying here trying to get back on his feet,” Sam reported as they stepped into the apartment and Steve saw the massive amount of blood.

In the center of the room Nicole laid sprawled out. Steve could make out a single gunshot wound and multiple stab wounds all over her body and the X’s carved over her open eyes. Instantly he realized that the stab wounds were done post-mortem because they did not seem to have bled out. Also, the cuts over her eyes were jagged and uneven. They weren’t nearly as clean and precise as any of the other victims. Steve could almost imagine the killer’s hands shaking as they made these cuts. He thought that the woman looked familiar but couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. After hearing that she worked for Murdock’s office he guessed that he probably saw her once or twice when he visited Matt to ask him about Kingpin over the last couple of weeks.

Steve turned to moved over to George’s body; he was killed by what appeared to be a gunshot to the head and he had the X’s carved into his eyes, as well. If Steve didn’t know better he would think that he was looking at two different perpetrators. He returned his gaze to Nicole’s body, shaking his head slightly.

“The only thing that matches the M.O. on Nicole’s body is the X’s and the gunshot wound. Her attack seems personal, Sam. All his other victims have died from a single gunshot to the head. This is messy, erratic. Why would he risk being caught now?” Steve crouched down, pulling on a pair of gloves. “The stab wounds were inflicted after she was killed. Why would he waste time to inflict this much damage on an already dead body?”

Sam shook his head, “This doesn’t make any sense. This is completely out of character. Maybe our guy just expected George to be home and Nicole wasn’t meant to be a target. She just happened to pick the wrong night to get off early. This Crossbones guy was caught off guard and reacted violently.”

Steve stood back up and took in the entire scene around him. From what he could see, Sam was right. George’s body was neat just like all the others but Nicole’s was messy and he could tell she was killed in a rage. “He’s destabilizing, Sam. If this is how he reacts to something not going his way, then it’s only a matter of time before he starts targeting random people.” Steve stated.

“We gotta find this guy.” Sam said, “We have to find this guy fast.”

****************

The sunlight that peaked in through the curtains woke Bucky up. He warily rubbed his eyes and felt slight disappointment when he looked over and saw Steve’s spot empty. He knew Steve would be gone for most the day and probably well into the night. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed for the day, Bucky figured it was time to pay Natasha and Clint a visit. 

He walked the distance from Steve’s townhome to the apartment that he shared with Nat. The weather felt considerably warmer than it had in last few days and Bucky smiled at the welcomed change in temperature. Once at the apartment, he climbed the stairs and let himself in.

Nat was already up and in the kitchen, she beamed at her friend and quickly wrapped her arms around him. When she pulled away she gently smacked Bucky’s arm, “Where have you been, Stranger?”

Bucky laughed and simply shrugged, “Been busy with work and with Steve.” 

Natasha made her way into the kitchen, Bucky following close behind, and poured coffee into two mugs. She handed one to the brunet before quirking a brow. “So how are things going with Steve?” Natasha asked peering over the edge of her coffee cup.

Bucky smiled and his cheeks flushed, “Things great. He’s . . . he’s something else.”

Natasha smiled and set her coffee cup down. She wrapped her arms around Bucky and hugged him tightly. “I am really happy for you, Bucky. You deserve to be happy and I think Steve is doing that.”

Bucky heard a door open and turned around to see Clint walking groggily out of Natasha’s room. Clint rubbed his eyes and smiled when he saw Bucky. “Good morning,” Bucky stated.

Clint’s face contorted in confusion, Bucky looked to Natasha helplessly. She simply smiled and subtly tapped her ear a few times. Clint made a noise of understanding and quickly turned on his hearing aids. “Sorry man, I am still trying to get used to these things.”

Bucky shrugged and grinned, “No problem. So how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. It’s a little difficult to get used to the whole hearing aids. I couldn’t imagine having to get used to having no arm, man, I give you major props.”

Natasha let out a shocked gasp, “Clint!”

Bucky laughed, “Yeah it was a real bitch. Try buttoning your jeans with one arm. Took me ages to figure it out.”

The three friends chatted for several hours. Bucky felt happier than he had been in ages; things were finally looking up for him.

************

Steve cursed under his breath and threw the pictures from the crime scene on his desk. He took a drink of his coffee only to spit it out because it had gone cold. The scene baffled him. He could not understand why Nicole’s body had sustained so much more damage than any of the other victims so far. Sure, the killer might have been caught off-guard when Nicole arrived home early, but why the rage? What was different with Nicole from all the other victims? What had she done to entice this Crossbones guy to inflict so much anger?

Steve rubbed his eyes and stood up, cracking his back as he did so. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was already a quarter past ten in the evening. He and Sam had been at this for over fifteen hours. He walked over to Sam who stood in front of their evidence board, eying the pictures of the multiple crime scenes; Sam quickly glanced over to Steve before returning to look back at the board.

Sam shook his head, “I don’t know what we’re missing, Steve. Something about last night’s murders was personal for our guy. But what? What about last night triggered him?”

“It has something to do with Nicole. So far she is our only female vic, but there was no signs of any sexual assault, so that wasn’t the motive for his rage. Something about her ticked him off - - enough to steer from his normal routine and stab her multiple times after he’d already killed her.” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the board; Nicole’s lifeless eyes bore into him, the deep X’s making his stomach churn. “What are we missing?”

“Maybe he knew her? Maybe,” and Sam turned to eye Steve, as if checking his reactions, “he lives in the neighborhood and has talked to her or seen her around?”

Steve, rolling his eyes, asked, “You aren’t seriously thinking what I think you are, are you?”

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his short black hair. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that it’s a possibility. Ever hear of a thing called Post Traumatic Overload? You know, Vietnam vets suffered it. Going along happily day by day until, wham, they lose it and take out the wife, the neighbor, and the local mutt.”

“Of course I’ve heard of it, Sam! But Bucky isn’t like that! How could he possibly have violently murdered and stabbed a woman? He has one arm!” Steve threw his arms in the air, already fed up with this conversation. 

Shaking his head, Sam cut his hand through the air. “That’s bullshit, Steve! You know as well as I do that anyone can wield a knife with one hand. And the other one’s metal, for God’s sake. He wouldn’t get cut or anything using that prosthetic to hold the blade!” Sam started to turn back to the board.

Steve stared at his partner incredulously, “This is crazy! Sam, that’s beyond crossing the line . . . that’s blowing the damn line up! You cannot honestly think Bucky is capable of murdering people! You are just blinded by your dislike of him.” 

“Crazy?” Sam whirled on Steve and anger seemed to pour off of him. “I’ll show you crazy, Steve!” The man strode to his desk and yanked open the top drawer, accidentally spilling the contents everywhere. Ignoring the mess, he scooped up a plain manilla folder and thrust it at his partner. “Read that, Steve, and tell me who’s the crazy one. He fucking wiped out his entire fucking platoon! Seen the footage? A sniper got them. A fucking sniper, Steve.”

Rage filled Steve’s entire being and he shouted, “that was not his fault, Sam! He was taken out by an RPG!” Steve knew how Bucky blamed himself for what happened to his platoon; just hearing someone else voice that made Steve’s blood boil.

“Before or after he killed his team?”

“No, Sam. Bucky would never do that!”

Sighing, Sam shook his head and opened the folder Steve still hadn’t touched. He turned it so a spreadsheet was easily readable. “Need more? How about your boyfriend’s been at every damn crime scene, Steve. None of the other reporters have managed that. Sometimes he’s even there before the cops are!”

“He sleeps with a police radio in his room, Sam! That’s how he knows! He’s dedicated to his job!” Steve snapped, throwing his hands in the air again and letting out an annoyed growl.

“Dedicated to making the next story so he can report it?” Sam crossed his arms and glared at Steve, as if daring him to continue fishing for a defense for Bucky.

Steve returned Sam’s glare and put his hands on his hips. “He wasn’t at the warehouse, remember? He wasn’t there!”

With a nod, as if agreeing, Sam immediately dispelled the image of understanding when he said, “So, he was busy getting rid of all those weapons. And he decided to sleep in after a hard night’s work so didn’t bother to come to a crime scene he could report on already.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” Steve paused for a moment, “Hold on, tonight he was at my place when Nicole and her brother were murdered. How can he be at two places at once? He was sleeping right next to me.”

“And you got proof of that?”

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, no words came out.

“So, you were asleep after a double shift . . .” Sam nodded, then pointed at Steve to emphasize his words, jabbing with each point. “And he couldn't just ease his way out, go kill George and Nicole, then make it home from around the corner before you got the call to wake up? Probably why it was a neighbor not the killer calling that one in, Steve.” Sam looked at his partner with some sympathy in his brown eyes.

‘I-I would’ve woken up. I would’ve felt him leave or come back.” Steve felt like he grasped at straws, he thought for a moment before continuing, “What about the bombing? Care to explain how he managed to take pictures of himself from that rooftop?”

“An accomplice?” Sam guessed. “An innocent bystander or unrelated thug?” He shrugged, apparently having not thought that completely through yet.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Dressed in head-to-toe armor? Yeah that sounds like an innocent bystander to me.”

“Why was he on the roof at all, Steve?” Sam glared at Steve hard, apparently on firmer footing with the new attack. He had seen Steve leave that very rooftop just before the bombing, after all.

“He wanted to be on scene to take pictures . . . that’s all.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam ground out, “He wanted to fucking throw you off the scent, Steve! He knew you would start suspecting once you found out about the military.”

Steve growled, his whole body tense in anger, “Why would he want to hurt Clint - - who happens to be his best friend’s fiance?” 

“Clint was collateral, Steve!” Sam stepped one step closer to his partner, voice rising with his newest argument and his obvious anger over Barton’s injuries. “He didn’t know that Barton was going to be there. Hell, you didn’t even know. Remember, I just brought him along on a whim to identify possible drug dealers? Once he saw the guy, he couldn’t stop what he was doing. Just another victim in the crazy war . . .” Sam’s eyes widened and he sounded entirely shook up. “Fuck! Barnes is still living the war, Steve! He thinks he’s still there, and that’s why he’s taking these guys out!”

Steve felt himself freeze, his blood running cold, “No . . . No, Sam. That can’t be it. Bucky isn’t crazy. He isn’t who you think he is.” He felt his throat tightening and tears stinging his eyes.

“No,” and Sam’s voice grew soft, sounded heartbroken almost. “No, he’s just a vet with Post Traumatic Overload, Steve.” He reached for Steve, putting a trembling hand on his partner’s shoulder. “The guy needs some serious help . . . before he takes out another innocent. Right now they’re just crooks, except Nicole . . . but there will be others like her, Steve.”

Steve wrenched himself away from Sam’s grip, his voice beginning to tremble, “No, Sam. Bucky didn’t do this . . . h-he couldn’t have. I-I would know . . . right? I would know if he was capable of this?”

Sam shook his head, brown eyes meeting and holding Steve’s blue ones. “And with those Overload vets, Steve? . . . The wife that got shot in the head was the last to know . . .”

Steve looked at his partner, his face draining of all color, “You really think he did this?” 

Sam looked away briefly then back. “I . . . I don’t know, man. That’s why I was still looking into it. But, it’s looking bad. Everything points to him, doesn’t it? And you gotta admit . . . he’s friends with some pretty shady people who could be helping him out, hiding things or providing a body in armor to photograph or whatever else he needs.”

“I’m not a rookie cop, Sam. I would know if Bucky was tricking me. I’d know!”

With a soft growl, Sam slammed the folder against Steve’s chest, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Read it, Steve, and tell me I ain’t right about that guy. He’s a loose cannon, and you’re just asking to be the next target!”

“Bucky would never hurt me!” Steve seethed, but his hands tightened around the folder.

“Like he’d never hurt Clint? Or that woman, Nicole? Or his own fucking team? Get real, Steve. You’re starting to sound like you’re covering for him, too.” Sam crossed his arms with a glare.

“Oh, so now I am a suspect, too?” Steve snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Sam looked heavenward as if for help. Voice tight, he growled, “No, but you’re letting your feelings . . . your emotions blind you. And right now, after losing it on that civilian woman, he could be on the hunt, lost in the hell he saw over there.” Sam gestured vaguely with his hand towards the east.

Steve shoved his finger into Sam’s chest, “You are wrong about him, Wilson.”

“Yeah, Rogers?” Sam pushed his partner’s hand away. “Prove it!” And he whirled, striding angrily from the room, the echo of his boots on the hard floors fading into bitter silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides behind Sam* Don't hate us!  
> Thank you all for reading!  
> Please leave us lovely comments and kudos, wanna know how people are liking it :)
> 
> P.S. Notice the new warning tags. I will post a note before that scene, so if you are uncomfortable with reading it, you'll be able skip it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare. Arguments ensue.

Chapter 12

The drive back to the townhome was nearly unbearable. The plain manilla folder rested on the passenger seat, and Steve kept flicking his eyes towards it. That folder contained information that could ruin everything; everything that he’d built up between him and Bucky could be destroyed if Sam was right. The mere thought that Sam _could_ be right shook Steve to his very core. The evidence that his partner had gathered did make sense, things did look bad for Bucky.

Steve groaned and ran a frustrated hand through his short blond hair. Could Bucky have really done all this? Could the man who had stolen Steve’s heart in such a short amount of time really be a cold-blooded killer? Steve thought about the term that Sam had brought up: Post Traumatic Overload. . . did Bucky think he was still in the war? Were all the horrors that the brunet had faced overseas finally catching up with him, turning him into a man that he normally wasn’t? 

Within a few minutes Steve pulled into his driveway and turned off his car. He saw that the light by his front door was turned on; this meant that Bucky was home. The detective let out a shaky breath and grabbed the folder before walking up to the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob; did he want to see Bucky right now? Would he be able to act normal when he thought that the man on the other side of the door could have murdered so many people? He shook his head and took a deep breath before unlocking the door and stepping into his home. 

Several lights were on inside; Steve stripped of his jacket and set down the folder on the coffee table before calling out, “Buck? Bucky you home?”

“Yeah, Steve, in the bedroom!” Steve heard Bucky call out. The blond closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Bucky sounded so normal, so relaxed. 

Steve found himself walking into the bedroom. Normally he would have smiled at the sight of the brunet lying down on the bed, wearing only a pair of Steve’s sweats and reading a book, but he couldn’t get the evidence hidden in that folder out of his head.

Bucky immediately noticed the odd behavior and put the book down, “You alright there, Stevie?”

Steve swallowed hard and nodded once, “Uh . . . yeah I’m fine. Long day.”

Sitting up, a concerned look painting his features, Bucky asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Steve snapped and the shocked look on Bucky’s face made him backpedal, “Sorry . . . I-I really don’t feel like talking about it.”

Bucky’s face softened and he nodded, he got up off the bed and walked over to Steve. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and whispered, “Then we don’t hafta talk.” The smaller man leaned up and kissed Steve softly.

The blond tensed, his whole body going rigid.

Bucky pulled away and cooed gently, “It’s alright Stevie, I’m gonna take care of you.” Bucky breathed down Steve’s neck and nipped at his earlobes. 

“Buck . . . “ Steve called out, but before he could get out any other words Bucky crashed his lips against Steve’s. The brunet ran one hand down the detective’s chest, slowly, before his hand rested on Steve’s growing erection. 

Steve groaned as a jolt of pleasure ran down his spine. This was wrong. Just an hour ago, he’d thought the man kissing him could be capable of violently slaughtering an innocent woman. Now he was allowing the same man kiss him. The blond shook his head and rested his hands on Bucky’s shoulders before gently pushing him away.

The brunet frowned and furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Not tonight, Bucky. I . . . uh . . . I just wanna sleep, okay?” Steve muttered, not able to look Bucky in the eye. 

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded, his cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He cleared his throat, “Yeah . . . I bet you’re tired. I’m gonna go get a glass of water . . . or something. Want anything?”

Steve shook his head, “Nah, I’m okay.”

Bucky shuffled out of the room, and Steve walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and threw his head into his hands. He sat like that for a couple minutes. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t pretend that the evidence that was stacked against Bucky didn’t exist. He couldn’t let that go. 

Steve froze, the folder that contained all that evidence still sat on the coffee table in the living room - - in plain sight from the kitchen. He shot up and quickly made his way into the living room. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw the manilla folder in Bucky’s hands; the brunet sifted through the contents. Steve could see the utter devastation on Bucky’s face.

“Bucky . . .” Steve called out, unable to approach any closer to his boyfriend.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet Steve's, his face instantly hardening, “What the hell is this Steve? What the fuck?”

“Y-you . . . weren’t supposed to see that.” Steve grumbled; he could feel his throat tightening.

“What, so you could continue your investigation on me? So you could try to pin these murders on me?” Bucky’s voice rose. 

Steve took a step closer, shaking his head, “No . . . it’s - - uh - - not like that. Please listen to me.”

Flipping the folder open again, Bucky let his eyes roam the top page, taking in the sickening imagery of the slain woman. He snapped the folder shut and looked back at Steve. “You think I could do this to some woman? It says she’s a civilian, Steve! If I’m the murderer why would I switch from gun and drug runners to civilians?” His stomach turned at the picture in his mind.

“You’ve seen her around before, Bucky, she only lived a few blocks away! She worked for Murdock’s office! You’ve probably even had a conversation with her before!” Steve found himself explaining. Shocked, Steve shook his head, he defended the very same evidence that just a few minutes ago he tried desperately to disprove. 

Incredulously the brunet shook his head. “So, I’m just gonna knife some lady down the street because, what? She looked at my boyfriend or something? Do you think I’m deranged?”

Steve threw his hands in the air, “I don’t know what to think! All I know is nothing about this looks good.”

“I don’t care what _you_ think it looks like. What it looks like to me is that my _boyfriend_ set me up. You got close to me to try to get something . . .”

Steve cut Bucky off, “God - - no! Bucky it was nothing like that!”

With a growl, Bucky grabbed the glass that he had left on the table and hurled it at Steve. “Fuck you, Rogers!”

Steve barely managed to dodge it; the glass shattered on the wall behind him. He felt a small sting on his cheek as stray glass cut through his skin. He could feel blood begin to well from the open cut. Steve’s eyes widened, completely shocked at Bucky’s outrage, “You need to calm down, Bucky.”

The brunet snarled, “Calm down?! You want me to calm down? I just find out you are building a fucking case against me, and you want me to calm down?!”

“Why were you even looking through it in the first place?” Steve snapped, his frustration and anger leaking into his tone. “Want to explain why you were snooping through my files?”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, “Fucking great, Steve. Let’s turn this on me . . . seems like you are already blaming everything else on me as it is.”

“You didn’t answer the question. Why were you going through _my_ files?” Steve ground out.

“I was fucking curious. You were upset, and I figured this,” Bucky motioned with the folder of documents in his left hand, “would explain why. I wanted to help you, Steve.” Bucky looked down to the files again, his eyes searching the page in front of him. His eyes widened a little as something new seemed to jump out, and Steve swore he heard the reporter let out a small whimper. “Fuck . . . Steve. You think I killed my own fucking platoon? Y-you think I’m fucking crazy?”

Steve’s heart dropped and he shook his head, “No . . .”

“I told you that stuff because I thought you would understand. You’ve been through it . . .” He wanted to throw up at the written accusation and at the look in Steve’s eyes he couldn’t even begin to translate.

“I thought I did understand, Bucky. You told me they were overwhelmed . . . not that they were killed by a sniper.” Steve winced, as if the words he spoke physically pained him. 

Shock coursed through the ex-infantryman and he swore, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Now we’re playing with semantics? They were one building over, and I woke up later with my arm fucking pinned under a goddamned building! All I know is what I heard and what my commander deigned to tell me out of pity! I had no idea they were overwhelmed by one goddamned sniper, Steve!” His gut twisted at the idea that one man could have killed so many good people, and Bucky ran his shaking right hand over his face, the folder still clutched in the metal grasp of his left hand.

“How was I supposed to know that?! You don’t talk much about anything from your days in the military. Hell, I didn’t even know any of their names until I read the file!” Steve exclaimed, his voice rising, tone becoming more desperate and frustrated with how this conversation went.

“Talk?” Bucky's anger blazed so hot he felt a chilling calm come over him. He knew it wouldn’t last; it was the same feeling he got right before all hell would break loose. “You want me to talk? I see them every fucking night, hear their screams! You want fucking names? Dugan . . . Dernier . . . Falsworth . . . Jones . . . Morita . . . or ain’t that enough for you, with your perfect way of compartmentalizing your own fucking military past?” He knew if he didn’t get out of there, he’d curl in a helpless tangle and cry until he blacked out. But of course, Steve might use that against him, too.

Steve felt a wave of anger rush through him, “We aren’t talkin’ about my past here, Bucky! That has nothing to do with any of this!”

Bucky cut him off by throwing the folder at Steve, causing all the documents to flutter around the detective before falling around his feet. “You don’t get a free pass on this one, Steve. It has everything to do with this and don’t you fucking deny it! You think I murdered my own men! Jesus fucking Christ, Steve. H-how could you think that?” Bucky’s voice cracked at the end and his eyes shone with tears. “And to think I’d ever hurt Clint or Nat!” That last charge had been the ultimate kicker, imaging Clint unconscious and almost completely deaf, and his boyfriend . . . the man he _thought_ had been his boyfriend accused Bucky of doing that to one of his closest friends?

Steve threw his hands in the air and let out an exasperated grunt, “I don’t know, Bucky. I don’t want to think you could . . . but you didn’t even know Clint would be there. Hell, I didn’t even know he’d be there!”

Incredulous, Bucky shook his head. “And you don’t think I’d have stopped then? You think I’d have just kept going for a couple of stupid pictures? ‘Cause that’s what we got outta that . . . pictures of Crossbones, and Clint fucking deaf for the rest of his goddamn life!”

Scoffing, Steve shouted, “you can’t forget about the several men that also got blown to bits, Bucky!”

Reaching out with his right hand, Bucky jabbed Steve in the chest. “You don’t ever accuse me of forgetting someone’s death, Steve! I remember every fucking one of those men, even if I never knew the bastards! But you made a point of singling out Clint in your report as - - what? Collateral damage?” Disgust welled in him.

“That’s what he was! No one knew Clint was going to be there!”

“Sam did! He brought the guy with him.” Bucky crossed his arms.

“Don’t bring Sam into this.” Steve snapped.

“Oh, no, wouldn’t wanna impinge the perfect honor of your main man, would we? Just because he hasn’t been to a fucking kill zone.”

Steve jabbed a finger at Bucky’s chest, “You don’t know a thing about Sam. Don’t assume things you know nothing about! Sam lost his wingman, Jim Rhodes, overseas! He had to watch as his closest friend and comrade was blown right out of the god damned sky!” 

“Well doesn’t that make us a fucking lot of merry assholes. Yeah, we can bond over cocoa and lost friends.” Bucky started to turn away, wanting to just get his stuff and get out of there.

Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky’s bicep, “There are people that can help. Places that can stop the anger and . . .”

Bucky shoved Steve hard, making the taller man almost fall over, “I’m not fucking crazy, Steve! I fucking trusted you! I-I . . . I lo . . .” Bucky didn’t finish his sentence; instead he shook his head and felt a few tears fall. He wiped them away and charged past Steve, going back into the the bedroom. Steve followed close behind and watched as Bucky threw on a sweater and slipped on his shoes.

Steve reached out, but Bucky whirled on him, “You don’t get to fucking touch me, Steve.” 

The blond retracted his hand, like it’d been slapped, and let it fall to his side. “Buck . . .” Steve muttered, “Bucky . . . please.” 

Grabbing his backpack by the door of the bedroom, the reporter strode out into the living room.

“Bucky - - please . . . stay. We-we can talk about this.” Steve desperately tried to keep Bucky from leaving, he did not want to let the brunet leave like this, not when he was _this_ angry.

Bucky opened the door. He turned to look at Steve; his eyes narrowed. “Unless you get a fucking warrant, _Detective_ , “ Bucky spat the word out, making Steve flinch, “do not ever talk to me again.” Bucky stomped down the stairs from the door and didn’t turn back. 

“Bucky!” Steve called out, but the brunet didn’t respond. Steve watched him until Bucky disappeared into the shadows and out of Steve’s life.

*************

A knock on the door surprised Steve from where he had been sitting on the couch with with his head in his hands. He sprung to his feet, hoping that the person knocking would be Bucky, and rushed over to the door. Steve pulled it open and was disappointed, and a little shocked, to see Sam.

His partner looked sheepish. Sam cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck before speaking out. “I’m sorry for coming over so late, Steve. I didn’t want things to end how they did at the precinct. Things got a little outta hand.” Sam waved his hand slightly in an apparently self-conscious gesture.

Steve sighed and motioned for his partner to come into the home.

With a grateful looking curl of his lips, Sam wiped his feet on the mat and stepped into the normally spotless room . . . and looked around at the broken glass and scattered papers. “Uh . . . Steve? You okay?”

The blond shook his head weakly, “No . . . Bucky and I - - we had a fight.”

“He do that to you, Steve?” Sam asked softly, gesturing to the dark smear of blood on Steve’s cheek.

Steve brought his hand to the cut; he’d completely forgotten about it, “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to.”

Sam nodded, expression seeming to close down. He crossed his arms. “Kind of lost his temper, you might say?”

The detective’s eyes fell to the floor before moving back up to meet his partner’s, “Yeah, he - - he got pretty upset. He saw the file, Sam.”

Rolling his eyes and tossing his hands in the air, Sam sighed, a sound of exasperation. “Why the hell did you let him look at that? That was a sure fire way to make him lose it!” The ex-pilot turned towards the kitchen, stepping carefully so as not to smash the glass even further underfoot. He reached for the dishcloth and turned on the tap.

The blond rolled his eyes and let ouy a tired huff, “I didn’t mean to let him see it! He opened it on his own while I was still in the bedroom.”

“You left stuff like that lying around?” Sam wet the cloth, whirled around, and strode over to his partner, thrusting out the wet cloth. “I thought you knew better than to leave files on open investigations around where suspects can get into them!”

Steve took the cloth and winced as he dabbed it against his wound, “I wasn’t thinking, Sam. I had a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sam snapped then pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his hands. “You’re gonna have to exclude yourself from this case, Steve. You’re too close. Hell, you live with the main suspect.”

Steve shook his head, “Not anymore. I’m not excluding myself. If Bucky is the killer, I’ll be the best way to bring him in.”

“Wait,” Sam lifted a hand and rotated it a bit. “Back up. Not anymore? You got into an argument with a suspected killer, got him angry enough to slip into a violent fugue state, and then you kicked him out of your house?” He shook he head and headed for the door. “Shit, Steve, we could be looking at another victim tonight!”

Steve scoffed, “Of course I didn’t kick him out! I tried to get him to stay, but he stormed off. It’s not like I can handcuff him to my radiator.”

At that, Sam stopped walking and turned to give Steve an indecipherable look. Slowly, he said “tell me that wasn’t a sex crack to make me calm down?”

“No,” Steve muttered, his voice trailing off.

Sam was smiling, slightly, though his eyes still showed his intense worry.

“You really think he might kill again tonight?” Steve’s eyes searched Sam’s face, trying to determine his reaction to the question.

That sobered the detective up like ice water on a barbecue fire. He ran a hand over his dark curls. “I don’t know. If he’s angry enough to lose touch, Steve, he could be capable of anything.”

The blond ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “God . . . what’ve I done? I just pissed him off even more.”

“So,” Sam pointed out, sounding like he tried to carefully pick his words, “you concede that he just might be losing touch and, uh, reliving the war?”

Steve rolled his eyes and snapped, “Yes, Sam. You might be right - - is that want you wanted to hear?”

Sam shook his head and frowned. “No, Steve. Believe it or not? I wanted him to be the good guy . . . you deserve the good guy.” Sam turned and opened the door. Quietly he said, “you might wanna put a bandage on that, partner,” then he stepped into the cold night air.

“Wait,” Steve called out, “I’m sorry I snapped. It’s been one hell of a night.”

Turning on the porch, below the light Bucky had left on to guide Steve home, Sam shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “Look, Steve, maybe you need to get away for the night . . .g et some breathing room to just unwind and get some sleep. Why don’t you crash at my pad? Riley’ll make up the pull out for you, and you can just . . . chill.”

Steve’s eyes flickered with indecision before nodding once.

“Okay. Let me grab some stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate us!  
> Please, leave kudos and comments!  
> Also, yes Riley is still alive for this story. We changed that on purpose.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another murder. An unexpected attack.

They arrived at Sam’s Downtown apartment about fifteen minutes later. Steve had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Sam led his wary partner up the stairs and into the apartment that he shared with his boyfriend Riley. 

Riley, also an ex-paratrooper from Sam’s old unit, had been there through thick and thin. After watching Jim be shot out of the sky, Sam felt lost and hopeless, and Riley had been there to pick up the pieces. They both left the military at the same time, and while Sam decided he wanted to become a detective, Riley had decided to help people in a completely different way and become a counselor at the local VA. 

Steve watched as Sam unlocked the door and he smiled softly when he saw Riley already preparing the pull-out. The blond realized that Sam had probably given his boyfriend a call while Steve had been grabbing a few things from his room.

Riley looked up from where he was laying out a blanket on the bed and grinned at the two men entering the room. “Hey guys,” He welcomed and walked over to Sam. He placed a gentle kiss on Sam’s lips who, in return, leaned over and pressed his lips on Riley’s temple. Riley moved over to Steve and gave him a tight, comforting hug; Steve wondered just how much his friend knew about what had happened.

Riley stepped back over to Sam, who wrapped his arm around the blond’s waist pulling him close. Steve walked over to the pull-out that Riley had prepared for him and set down his bag next to the bed. The detective could hear the couple conversing quietly behind him, although he couldn’t quite make out every word that was being said he did hear both his and Bucky’s name come up. The look of pity that Steve was receiving from Riley made his throat start to constrict again.

Clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “You do know I am standing right here, right?”

Riley smiled but Steve could tell that it didn’t reach his eyes, “How could we forget about you, ya’ big oaf!” Riley crossed the room and playfully shoved the detective, “Do you need anything? I think I still have some of that cocoa that you liked.”

Steve winced, remembering Bucky’s earlier comment, and shook his head, “I’ll pass on the cocoa this time, but I could use some water.”

The three men moved over to the kitchen that opened into the living room. Riley pulled out a glass from the cupboard and filled it with a glass of cold water from the pitcher in the fridge. He handed it to Steve who accepted it with a grateful nod of his head. Steve walked over to one of the stools that were underneath the breakfast bar and took a seat. The blond took a small drink and pretended not to notice the worried, sideways glance that Riley and Sam shared. 

“So,” Riley muttered, “How are you holding up, Steve?”

“Riley,” Sam warned, his tone iced with concern, “Steve just got here. Let the man breathe.”

Steve shrugged, ignoring Sam’s comment, “I’m alright. Things could be better. . .but what can you do? Not everyday you find out your boyfriend could be a mass murderer.”

The ex-paratrooper nodded, his eyes shining with sympathy. _So_ , Steve thought, _Sam has shared some information with him_. Sam was the one that spoke, his hand reaching out and resting on Steve’s in a comforting manner, “We’ll figure this out. . . together.”

*********

Bucky hunched against the rising wind, feeling the intense cold suck right through Steve’s thin sweatpants and the summer sweater. His anger at near white levels, the reporter furiously kicked at a piece of trash, ignoring his angry tears as he swore repeatedly under his breath. The theatre crowds had begun to dissipate with the end of the last showings for the night, and Bucky knew he’d be left with only the rest of the losers who roamed New York City after midnight. And with no protective clothing - - damn why’d he think it a good idea to go commando under those stupid pants? - - the brunet felt like he would lose more than a few fingers or toes to frostbite if he didn’t find shelter soon.

Why the hell did Steve live so fucking far from the main hub? Thirty blocks from downtown Brooklyn? Seriously? Growling softly, Bucky ran his right hand through his long hair, barely noticing that the freezing air had begun to make the long strands start to frazzle. Fucking Steve Rogers . . . where did he get off even thinking Bucky would be capable of what Crossbones had been doing? And to use his past against him like that?

Head down, tears welling against his eyes, Bucky reached up and angrily swatted at the moisture attempting to freeze to his face. The brunet looked around warily and spotted a small coffee shop, its lights still on. He was about to cross the street to get into the safe, warm building when he heard rustling coming from behind him. 

As he looked behind, a hand reached out without warning and jerked his neck back in an angry snap. Bucky let out a cry of pain and surprise before lashing out with his elbow. The reporter grunted when his arm crashed with a hard surface, nothing like what a body should feel like. He didn’t have time to react because a gloved fist lashed out and collided with Bucky’s face, _hard_. Bucky’s vision blurred as he was knocked off balance and thrown to the ground. The journalist could already feel blood trickle from the corner of his mouth from the rough hit to his cheek. 

His breath rushed out of his lungs when a boot collided with his side, Bucky attempted to curl into himself, trying to protect his vulnerable middle. The brunet didn’t have time to catch his breath before he felt a strong forearm tighten around his neck as his assailant jerked upright. Bucky immediately tried pulling away the arm that cut off his air supply. The attacker’s other arm wrapped around Bucky’s torso, pinning his right arm to his side. 

Bucky frantically began to squirm under the larger man’s grip as black spots began to show in his vision. He tried kicking out with his legs, doing anything he could think of to lessen the grip on his throat. Nothing worked, if anything the arm coiled tighter. Within a minute Bucky felt his eyes fall and his whole world turned to black. 

The last thing he heard was the sound of far off bells and a woman’s voice calling “What the hell?”

*****************************

Steve jolted awake when he heard Sam calling out his name. He sat up and looked around, when he saw his partner buttoning up his shirt. Steve groaned, “Do not tell me we got called in.”

Sam looked over to Steve and the blond swore he saw a flash of pity in those brown eyes, “Uh . . . yeah, Steve. There has been another attack.”

Suddenly wide awake, Steve shot up out of the bed and looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Who’s the vic?” The ex-paratrooper’s eyes fell to the floor and was intently staring at his shoes. Steve took a step closer to his friend, “Sam . . . who is the vic.”

“Another civilian, Steve.” Sam stated, his eyes moving up to meet Steve’s, “She only lived about fifteen blocks away from your place. Fury wants us on scene right away.”

His blood ran cold and he nodded his head once. Steve quickly got dressed, and they were just about to leave when Sam put a comforting hand on his partner’s shoulder. “You don’t have to come. You can stay here, I won’t mind.”

Steve shook his head and cleared his throat, “No, I need to see.”

Sam didn’t argue, instead motioned for Steve to leave the apartment. The drive over to the crime scene was quiet, the two detectives too lost in their own thoughts to hold a conversation. Steve couldn’t forget the look of utter betrayal on Bucky’s face as he stormed out of the townhome last night. He couldn’t help but think, if Bucky was the killer, then this victim was on him. It was his own fault that Bucky had seen those files, he was the reason why the brunet had gotten so angry. 

Sam pulled up alongside a small coffee shop, Steve could see that above the shop there was an apartment. The perimeter was sectioned off by the bright yellow tape. Several other police officers surrounded the home and the ambulance was there, its lights still on. Steve heard Sam release a deep breath before speaking up, “You sure about this? You don’t have to, Steve.”

Steve only scoffed in reply before shoving open the passenger door and getting out of the car. He was already walking up the entry steps when Sam jogged up besides him. The coppery smell of blood was the first thing to hit Steve when he stepped into the apartment. When they made their way into the living room, Steve was shocked by the violence of the scene in front of him.

The vic, thirty-five year old Jamie Wells, was sprawled out in the center of the room. The room around her was a complete disaster. A lamp laid, shattered, a few feet from her body; the light bulb flickering slightly. There was blood splatter everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, and even on the ceiling. The actual body was what scared Steve the most. She hadn’t been killed by a gunshot to the head, like all the others, she had been violently stabbed to death. Multiple wounds adorned her arms, chest, and neck. The X’s carved into her eyes were deep and jagged, much like the one’s on Nicole’s eyes. Upon closer examination, Steve could see several of her nails were chipped or missing. She had been able to fight back.

“Steve?” Sam snapped his partner out of his haze.

Looking over, Steve asked, “What? I’m sorry it’s just that she - -”

“Looks just like Nicole.” Sam finished and Steve nodded in agreement. When Steve made no other comments, Sam continued. “This is violent. A lot more so than Nicole’s murder. Plus, she’s a civilian with no ties to the criminal underground. She was the owner of a coffee shop downstairs. Why would he attack her?”

Steve flinched because he knew who he was. _He_ was Bucky; they were still thinking that Bucky was capable of all this. That he was so far gone that he would break into an innocent woman’s home and violently stab her to death. The blond found himself shaking his head, “I don’t know, Sam. Obviously he has found a type, Nicole and Jamie could be sisters. They look so alike. Let’s assume he was walking back to his own apartment and what? He saw her and she triggered something in him to cause this much rage?”

Sam shook his head, “I don’t know man. Honestly, with how upset he was last night I don’t think it would take much for him snap. She was probably just at the wrong place at the wrong time. He needed something to release the anger he’d been feeling.”

Steve felt like he was going to be sick. Still unsure if Bucky could really do this to someone, but if he had, all this torture that this poor woman had gone through, it was all on him. He let Bucky leave last night, he was the one that got him all riled up. Suddenly, he felt himself wishing he had handcuffed Bucky to the damn radiator. 

The brunet, seeing Steve’s hurt expression, moved so he was standing in front of his partner, “Steve, none of this is your fault. You know that right?”

Eyes not leaving the body, Steve murmured, “How could he do this, Sam? How could he hurt someone like this? I-I don’t understand . . . and what’s even worse? I’m scared for him. Even after seeing this, I still don’t want him to be hurt.”

Sam put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, causing the blond to flick his eyes to meet Sam’s, “He needs help, Steve. If anyone can help it, he will not be hurt. He needs to be in a hospital. He’s sick.”

Steve clenched his jaw and his eyes hardened with determination, “We need to find him. Before he hurts anyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp . . . please don't hate us! We promise Steve and Bucky will get their happy ending . . . eventually.  
> Please leave kudos and comments, both Sam and I love to read what ya'll are thinking!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wakes up. Sam and Steve find a note.

Bucky groaned loudly, his head feeling like it was going to split in two. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to remember what had happened. Suddenly the events of the night before came crashing down on him, the fight with Steve, storming out of the townhome, and the attack. His eyes snapped open and instantly he heard himself let out a small whimper. 

It was dark. He couldn’t make out where he was, hell, he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face. Bucky’s heart immediately began to race and blood rushed to his ears. The first thing he noticed was the cold, hard ground below him. Whoever had taken him had also removed all his clothes, including his shoes, leaving him shivering on a cold cement floor.

Luckily, he wasn’t bound so he was able to shakily stand up. Instantly, he felt that his prosthetic had been removed; and he stumbled a little at the unexpected change in weight. Bucky felt bandages wrapped tightly around his head, stopping the wound below it from bleeding out, the brunet figured this was the reason why his head was currently pounding.

“Hello?” He called out. Nothing responded back to him. Bucky looked around but there was nothing but darkness. The pitch black was suffocating and the journalist found it was getting increasingly harder to breathe.

“Is anyone there?” Bucky shouted, his voice quivering slightly. He swallowed hard and stretched out his right arm and began to shuffle forward. It only took a few steps before his hand met a cool, concrete surface. The brunet ran his hand down the wall until he felt a crease. Frantically, he continued to run his hand along the wall until his hand enclosed around the door knob. Bucky twisted it and tried to jerk it open. 

Of course, the door didn’t budge. Bucky pounded on the door and tried with all his might to bust it open. He felt a few of his fingers break but that didn’t stop his assault on the door. “Please!” Bucky screamed, “Please! Let me out!”

He brought down his fist again on the door, ignoring the stabbing pain that ran up his arm. Bucky could feel warm blood already running down his arm from his attack on the surface in front of him. “Fuck!” Bucky cried, bringing his forehead to rest on the door. 

His breathing had only become more erratic and his heart thumped heavily against his ribcage. Bucky knew if he didn’t get his breathing under control he would pass out. The darkness surrounded him; he couldn’t stop his mind from going back to being trapped, to being completely and utterly helpless. Tears began to well in his eyes and he didn’t even wipe them away as they fell down his cheeks. 

“Please,” Bucky whispered into the darkness. “Please . . . let me out.”

Bucky knew there was no help coming for him. Steve and Sam both believed he was the murderer; they wouldn’t find it strange if he disappeared. Nat would begin to get worried after a few days of no contact, but Bucky didn’t even know if he’d been alive in a few days. He was completely alone, no one was coming to save him. The darkness would consume him until there was nothing left. 

***********

The detectives walked down the steps of the apartment and made their way back onto the street. People had begun to crowd around the barrier. Steve noticed one of the beat cops talking to a young man, the officer was quickly jotting down some notes as he listened to what the man was saying. 

Sam pulled out photo of Bucky, nudged Steve, and said, “I’m gonna see what he knows.”

Steve noticing who the picture was of, nodded tersely and followed his partner over to the witness and the cop. The young man looked over at both of the detectives, his light brown hair was ruffled slightly by the winds and he nervously chewed on one of his fingernails. 

Stopping by the pair, the darker haired detective stopped said, “May I ask something, officer?”

The cop nodded his head and snapped his note pad shut, “Sure thing, Detective Wilson.”

With a nod of thanks, Sam turned to the witness and offered the picture. “Did you see this man anywhere around here?”

The young man’s eyes widened and he nodded frantically, “Yeah man, that guy was hanging outside the shop a few hours ago.”

“So,” Sam raised his eyebrows. “You did see this man? Are you sure?”

Nodding again, the witness spoke, “Yeah, I remember him because all he was wearing was a stupid spring sweater, it was way too cold for just a thin sweater like that. Weird thing was that he didn’t even come in, looked a bit lost or somethin’.” The man was quiet for a moment, “Whoa! Are you saying that guy killed Jamie?”

“Did you see him near the victim?” Sam didn’t answer the other question.

“Yeah man, she went outside . . . maybe to check on him - - I don’t know . . . but I had just gotten my food, so I didn’t bother to watch as she talked to some homeless punk freezing his ass off. Then just as I was about to finish I heard some screamin’ coming from upstairs. So,” the man shrugged, “I figured I ought to do something. Maybe Jamie was being robbed, so I called the cops. I didn’t go up there though, with all those killings happening . . . I didn’t wanna be next, ya know?”

Steve felt his knees begin to buckle. Just hearing that Bucky was the last person to see the victim made all this seem suddenly real. Bucky did this, the outgoing brunet that had stolen his heart was capable of cold-hearted murder. 

Sam, noticing that his partner had paled, quickly caught Steve before he could collapse. The detective gave his friend a concerned frown and sighed. “C’mon, Steve, I’m getting you home.” He turned to the interested witness and said “Thank you, give the rest of your statement to the officer. Good job calling this in.”

The blond let himself be led back to Sam’s cruiser and ushered into the passenger seat. Steve made no indication of hearing Sam get into and start the car. 

On a soft sigh, Sam asked “Need to get some more stuff from you house, Steve. I’m not letting you stay there alone until he’s off the streets.” The detective turned to his partner. “I think you’re in real danger.”

Continuing to stare down at his hands, Steve mumbled, “He wouldn’t hurt me...he wouldn’t.”

Shaking his head, Sam didn’t even bother to argue. Instead, he put the car in gear and drove, silently, to Steve’s townhouse only fifteen blocks away from this latest crime scene . . . a scene at which Bucky was the last person seen with the newest victim. Once at the house, Sam parked directly in front, and flipped the lights on so people would leave the car alone. He opened the door and bent instead, calling softly “you gonna let me in or am I gonna break in your door, buddy?”

Without answering, Steve got out of the car and began to walk up the few steps to his front door. Seeing that the light was still left on from the last time Bucky had been here made Steve’s heart ache. He shakily pulled out his keys and opened the door, allowing Sam to step in before him.

The other man nodded once, accepting the lead, and lifted his gun carefully from its holster under his jacket. He slid into the house and looked around then called “Steve, he’s been back.”

This made the blond jolt forward into the house, “What? What do you mean he’s been back?”

Sam gestured with his chin to some smears of blood on the wall, as if someone had dragged bleeding fingers across the wall, deliberately or not was undetermined. At the end of that bloody line was a note tacked onto the lampshade, the brightness illuminating the writing in an almost eerie shadowy splash over the white stationary. The person who’d placed the note left a smear of blood on the paper, and the binder clip from Bucky’s police file had been used to secure the note.

Most disturbingly, the folder and all the papers had been removed from the home, though the shattered glass had not been cleaned up. Steve pushed past Sam, his eyes locking on the letter. However, Sam grabbed Steve’s bicep, effectively stopping the taller man in his tracks. 

“That’s evidence, Steve,” he said gently, shooting Steve a worried looking glance.

“I don’t care!” Steve seethed, “It’s meant for me!”

“And covered in the victim’s blood, Steve!” Sam stepped in the way, pulling some gloves out of his pocket and slipping them on. He glanced at Steve again then reached for the paper. He carefully removed the clip and held the paper by two fingers. Turning slowly, he held the piece of paper so Steve could read it, but did not let him touch it.

“ _I have him now. You ain’t gettin’ him back ever. He is mine to toy with. This whole thing is your fault, shithead. This war you started, it ain’t over by a long shot - - he knows what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Nice intel, by the way, lotsa useful bits in there. His blood is on your hands, all o’ them are on your hands. PS Get the fucking bitch off my back! Already did her twice. How many times I gotta kill the broad?_ ”

“What the hell is he talking about, Sam? Nothing about this letter makes any sense.” Steve stated, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and thought.

Taking a deep breath, Sam ventured “writing in the third person? He also mentions having kidnapped someone, I think . . . someone who knows why he’s doing this. He doesn’t name you, but since it’s your house, I think ‘Shithead’ is you, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, “Got that one loud and clear. But what about the rest?”

“Well, I assume ‘intel’ is that folder of my research on him.” Sam looked a bit frustrate and looked at Steve. “Some help with evidence bags for these, Steve? I don’t wanna hold them all night.”

The blond grunted and ran back outside to Sam’s police cruiser. He quickly opened the trunk and sifted through the evidence kit until he came across several bags. Steve grabbed a few, barely remembering to shut the trunk, and jogged back into his home. Sam hadn’t moved and seemed to be intently studying the letter. Steve held open one of the bags, and Sam carefully lowered the letter into it. He followed by putting the binder clip into another bag then he sealed and marked both items for evidence, making sure that his own initials, and not Steve’s, were on them.

Nodding towards the blood stains on the wall, Steve said, “We need to process those. See who’s blood it is.”

“Yeah, let me get my kit and I’ll come back and take care of those. You can look at that letter all you want right now, but for god’s sake don’t break that seal!” Sam trotted outside and came back several minutes later carrying his kit. He proceeded to take swabs of the blood smears on the wall and lampshade. “Got Bucky’s toothbrush for comparison DNA, Steve? And your’s just so we can rule you out?”

Steve swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before nodding his head, “Yeah, he kept a spare in my bathroom. I-I’ll go grab it now.”

“I can swab you since your brush is at my place, actually . . .” Sam crossed his arms and waited for Steve to return, leaning over the note now on the table in its evidence bag. When Steve returned his partner nodded and bagged Bucky’s toothbrush, then swabbed and logged in Steve’s DNA. “So, let’s go over this note once more before we turn everything over to the lab.”

“Alright,” Steve agreed, “He starts off with saying that he has someone. Someone he could toy with.”

“Also says you won’t get him back. Who would Bucky mean by that?” Sam frowned.

“I have no idea. I hang out with a lot of people.”

Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed. “So, we gotta start the office contacting all your friends. Think it might be Clint?”

“I don’t think he’d hurt Nat like that . . .”

Shooting a glare at Steve, Sam stiffened. “You still think he’s in his right mind after everything tonight, Steve?”

Steve threw his hands in the air, “I don’t know, Sam! I don’t know what or how he’s thinking. He loves Nat like a sister, I don’t think . . . even in this state he’d do anything to hurt her.”

“And he’s your boyfriend, but he’s blaming this ‘ _war_ ’ on you.” Sam sighed and nodded, apparently trying to calm down. “Okay, let’s say it’s not Clint for now. So, he grabbed Joe Schmoe and this Joe guy knows what this war is all about? So, it doesn’t sound like it’s about Fisk so much, any more. This is something personal aimed at you. Was he always jonesing for you?”

Eyes widening, Steve stated, “You think he made us all think this was a war against Fisk, just to what? Throw us off the scent?”

“No,” Sam shook his head slowly, studying the note again. “He’s got a vendetta, but we had no idea it was him or why at first. The crossed out eyes are important . . . like stopping the vics from seeing his face? And if he’s been aimed at you from the beginning, he could hardly have arranged a better crime, since you’re only called in on the really weird ones.” Sam looked at his partner. “No, I think he was aiming for your attention the entire time, Steve.”

“But why target Fisk at all then? Why not go after civilians the whole time?”

Shaking his head, eyes widening in apparent shock, Sam said “he didn’t. We did. Remember we asked him about gang wars in Hell’s Kitchen? So, he pulled a name out of his ass! Knew you’d believe it since he’s done stories on the bastard.”

“Alright, Kingpin was just a pawn. Something to get him further in this war he’s at. He goes on to say that it’s not over - - what does he mean?”

Slowly, Sam spoke, clearly enunciating every word. “Steve, did you tell him your own war horror stories?”

“Yeah, I told him everything - - wait. You’re not thinking . . . “

“Yeah, Steve, I am.” Sam sighed and pulled the gloves off with a snap, shooting them expertly into the open trash can. “I think he heard your story and figures you’re at fault for your team, same as him. But seeing you built a case on him, not knowing it was me, he snapped and now thinks your not gonna help him. He thinks you’re the enemy, too. In fact,” Sam’s brown eyes met Steve’s blue. “I think he may start thinking you were that sniper that killed his team.”

Steve ran a shaky hand through his hair, “You really think he’s that far gone? That he’d honestly believe that?”

Sam put a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder, compassion in his eyes. “He blames you for the blood, Steve, says Joe Schmoe’s blood is on your hands and that all of the blood is on you.”

“Wait,” Steve snapped, a thought suddenly hitting him, “Rumlow. Rumlow is the only surviving member of my team.”

“Damn,” Sam swore and dropped his hand, heading towards the front door. “Come on, Steve, we gotta find that guy and get him to safety!”

Steve nodded and followed his partner out the door, “What if we are already too late? What if Bucky already has him?”

Sam looked over his shoulder then sighed. “Yeah, makes sense with the letter he left. Come on, we’ll get an evidence crew over here and go back to the precinct so we can hunt down your old buddy. And maybe on the way we can figure out why he thinks Nicole and Jamie were the same person.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this story is coming to an end soon. There will 17 chapters, which means there are only 3 left. But Sam and I are already writing the sequel, so do not fret!
> 
> Please, leave kudos and comments! Both of us love to hear what ya'll are thinking of the story and if you have any suggestions or whatnot, don't be afraid to share . . . we don't bite :) 
> 
> As always, thanks to each and every one of you who are reading this! You guys are all super amazing!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single piece of paper sat next to the arm, the ink and blood smears reaching mockingly across the room at the two detectives . . . the two men who only just realized how truly wrong they had been in their prime suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The first part of this chapter is the beginning of a rape. Please, if it bothers you to read it, just skip the first section. It does not go into the actual rape itself, but what leads up to it.**

The door opening drew Bucky’s mind from the place it had settled, deep inside his dark-infested fears. Hope sprang at the slightly lighter greyness beyond the doorway and Bucky uncurled, intent on crawling out there. But a large figure loomed suddenly in the doorway and Bucky backed up, terrified, unsure if this was friend or foe.

A deep, rumbling rasp of a voice echoed into the tiny closet space. “Hello, boytoy. Gonna fuck you up so even _he_ won’t wanna pick up the pieces no more.”

Bucky drew in a shaky breath and forced his voice beyond his closing throat. “Who the hell are you?” He winced at the challenge in his own tone. _‘Not so smart when you’re at his mercy, Buck!’_ he told himself.

With a rough laugh, the man took two large, heavy strides, his feet obviously encased in hard, combat-style boots. The sound of a zipper sent alarm through the reporter and he tried to scramble away from this captor . . . and the obvious intent in his deranged mind.

Two big, hard, calloused and scarred hands reached down and grabbed Bucky, lifting him easily and shaking him like a pup. Bucky felt his neck snap back painfully, but he was glad the man hadn’t broken it with such an attack. The man dropped Bucky, who landed, stunned momentarily on the hard cement. Before the brunet could react, his captor grabbed him roughly, flipped him over painfully, and pushed him hard onto the floor, Bucky’s right arm trapped before his chest.

“Gonna fuck you hard, boytoy, and you’re gonna scream.”

A big hand pushed at Bucky’s ass, opening it as Bucky struggled against the painful grip. Then he felt something large, hard, and dry pushing into him, ripping him, and blessed blackness overcame him when Bucky passed out.

**********

Once back at the precinct the detectives busied themselves with attempting to get any information on Brock Rumlow. Steve was surprised at how his old friend seemed to disappear after returning from the war. He’d been in hospital for months and after intensive care and physical therapy he had been sent back stateside. The last document they had on Rumlow was about his divorce from his wife, Hannah, listing ‘Irreconcilable Differences’ as the main reason behind the split. However, his last known address was still listed as the home he had shared with his wife. Apparently, she moved out and settled at the other end of the city from her ex-husband.

Pulling up a picture of Hannah made both of the detectives curse under their breath. Hannah Rumlow was a dead ringer for both Nicole and Jamie. If Steve didn’t know better he would’ve assumed the three women were related somehow.

Sam ran a hand over his face, “Shit, Steve. He’s probably been stalking Rumlow and while doing that, stalking Hannah in the process. That’s why he killed Nicole and Jamie, he felt like she was watching him. The last line of the letter makes a lot of sense now. We gotta go get her and put her somewhere safe.”

The blond nodded in agreement, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair before storming outside, his partner close behind. The temperature had dipped considerably, Steve could clearly see his breath as it came out in small, white mist. The two men hurried into their car and quickly began the drive over to Hannah’s home. She lived on the outskirts of Brooklyn in a small single-family home. By the time arrived the sky had begun to spit snow.

They saw a mid-sized sedan in the driveway, one they knew was registered to Hannah. “She’s home.” Sam commented as they exited the cruiser. 

They raced up the front steps and Sam pounded on the door. “Hannah Rumlow?” He called out, “Hannah, it’s the NYPD. Please open up.”

They waited for a few moments before knocking again. “Hannah - -” Sam’s voice was cut off when an elderly woman next door spoke.

“You two here about the noise complaint?” She asked as she huddled close together under her larger jacket.

“Noise complaint, Ma’am?” Steve asked, he snuck a concerned sideways glance to his partner before snapping his focus back to the woman.

“Yeah, all sorts of racket. Crashin’ and whatnot. Called you guys about an hour ago. Took you long enough.” She grumbled, “Was tryin’ to sleep.”

Both men slipped out their guns and held them ready. Sam knocked once more, “Hannah Rumlow? Ma’am, we’re coming in.”

Sam reached out and gripped the doorknob tightly. The detective turned his head to look over at his partner, who nodded stiffly, before twisting it and shoving the door open. The two men, with their guns drawn, slipped into the home and Steve felt his heart lurch at the far too familiar smell of blood that seemed to hit him like a freight train. Sam seemed to smell it as well, because Steve noticed how his back seemed to stiffen, they checked the rooms of the lower floor before moving upstairs.

The smell seemed to increase ten-fold as they neared what Steve assumed was a bedroom. Sam nudged the door open with the tip of his gun and Steve felt his stomach drop at the sight that was revealed.

“Shit.” Sam murmured, slipping his gun back into its holster. The brunet took in the scene in front of him.

Hannah Rumlow laid on the bed, wearing nothing but a small nightgown that had been soaked thoroughly with blood. Stuffed in her mouth was a rag, probably to muffle her screams so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. Her whole body was covered in knife wounds, ranging from shallow to incredibly deep. On her legs were several long shallow cuts; the closer to the center of the body, the deeper the wounds seemed to be. Her forearms were covered in what appeared to be defensive wounds, Steve hated how he thought of Bucky looming over the poor woman as he violently stabbed her over and over again. The X’s carved over her eyes were shallow and uneven, as if they had been done as an afterthought.

Like Jamie’s crime scene, blood was splattered throughout the room. The room was a mess, a drawer was tipped over, spilling its contents onto the floor. The blond detective assumed this was the crashing that the elderly neighbor had heard. 

“Steve,” Sam called out, snapping Steve out of his thoughts. “Look.” The darker man motioned with his chin to another letter. He carefully began removing another pair of gloves from his pocket; Sam always carried about five pairs. The blond watch warily as his partner unfolded the white paper, speckled with blood and listened as Sam read the letter aloud. 

“ _Finally got the bitch. She ain’t gonna haunt me no more. I’m free from her. He’s gonna end up just like her. Shame those pretty eyes gotta be marked over. He is a sweet piece of ass. Nice and tight but he ain’t tight no more. So, before you want me to take that piece o' chocolate from you, too, why don't you and me meet?_ ” Sam pressed his lips tightly together before looking over at Steve. “Funny how his language skills seem to be degrading as he loses it . . .” he murmured.

“Something isn’t adding up, Sam.” Steve stated, eyes focusing on Hannah’s body. “I feel like we are still missing something.” 

“Well, since he didn’t give us a meeting spot, we should check on Rumlow. If he’s after your old teammate, that’d be the next place he’d go.” Slowly, Sam lifted his eyes away from the sordid note. “Steve? Were you lovers with Rumlow, by any chance?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, “I - - it wasn’t like we were lovers. We messed around while overseas. He said he just got lonely . . . missed his wife.”

“And did you tell Bucky about this? It might be what set him off this last rampage . . . trying to take down Rumlow’s wife and all.”

“No,” Steve said as he shook his head. “I left that particular detail out. It wasn’t something he needed to know.”

Nodding, Sam asked “Steve? Evidence bag? Let’s let the regular crime analysts finish processing and send them on to your place.” He sighed. “We gotta go check on your ex.”

Steve made a small noise of agreement before handing an evidence bag over to his partner. “You’re right. We were too late for Hannah . . . maybe we can get to Rumlow on time.”

Sam nodded and carefully bagged the note, sealing it and initialing it.

The sounds of sirens came to them from outside and several police officer ran in, looking harried, the neighbor grumpily trying to get an eyeful from where they held her back. Sam pulled off his gloves and nodded to the officer, properly signing the letter to him before turning to Steve. “Let’s go.”

The detective followed close behind Sam, quickly getting back into the cruiser. Once Sam was in and starting the car, Steve groaned, “I hope we aren’t too late.”

“You and me both, buddy,” Sam said and pulled into the early morning traffic.

The two men didn’t talk as they drove over to the house that Rumlow had once shared with his wife. The house sat on the outskirts of the city. It appeared fairly normal for an ex-Army man, a standard two story structure in need of a new paint job and a gutter cleaning, but fairly well kept up. Apparently, Rumlow still lived in the place or it would have been in far worse repair.

There were no cars in the driveway and the house as a whole looked empty from the outside. Sam stopped the car and the two detectives shared a concerned look before getting out. Gun already drawn, Steve ran up to the front door, knocking loudly he said, “Rumlow? Brock Rumlow? Are you inside?”

When there was no answer, Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

Sam stepped up behind him and nodded, pulling out his gun. “You know, we should be doing all these well-being checks with backup, Steve?” But the darker man merely reached for the doorknob.

“There’s no time, Sam,” Steve stated; opening his eyes, he nodded to his friend. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

His partner didn’t answer, instead he twisted the doorknob slowly. Sam pushed the door open, trying to keep the noise the door made as it opened as quiet as possible. Steve followed close behind his partner, shifting on his feet, as he looked around the house. The house was eerily silent, the only sounds were that of the two men’s feet moving around the wooden floor. 

"Damn," Sam swore low as he took in the room. Quickly, he turned and tried to push Steve from the house. "We gotta call for backup, Steve . . ." He seemed desperate for Steve not to see something . . . possibly the victim sprawled dead, one more red mark on Steve's ledger?

Steve shoved past his partner, “What is it?” He only took a few steps before he let out a pained gasp, “Oh my God.”

Sitting in the middle of the floor was an all too familiar backpack, blood spattered over the vinyl and leather. And above it, like a goddamned trophy displayed on an end table, was a gleaming metal arm, straps cut raggedly, blood smeared and the finger joints twisted and smashed. A single piece of paper sat next to the arm, the ink and blood smears reaching mockingly across the room at the two detectives . . . the two men who only just realized how truly wrong they had been in their prime suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there are only two more chapters to go!  
> Please feel free to leave comments, kudos' and whatnot.  
> Thank you all for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

“Shit, Steve . . . “ Sam sounded regretful that Steve had seen the horrifying display set so brazening in Rumlow’s entry hall. “We really need backup on this one . . . there’s no doubt your boyfriend’s involved . . . a victim,” Sam sighed, running a shaking hand through his dark curls.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the arm, the joints that were twisted and crushed, obviously destroyed in a massive display of anger. “We were wrong. Sam - - I was wrong. Oh my God! He has him.” The blond detective felt his throat tighten and he threw a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob that tore past his lips.

In a quiet voice, Sam said, “I wasn’t done with my research, but yeah, this is all on me, Steve. You only believed what I told you.” He strode quickly forward then and leaned over to check out the note, without touching anything. In a clear voice he read, “Not givin’ him up after all, like your boy toy too much, but ya know, he gave his left arm for ya, so you’re alive one more day, Shithead. No one’ll find him in that dark hole he’s in.” The detective turned to his partner, misery in his soft, brown eyes.

Steve’s eyes glazed over, completely unfocused, “He’s raping him, Sam. While we were thinking he was a murderer . . . he - -.” Unable to form more words he let out another sharp sob.

Sam walked over to Steve and slapped him hard across the face. “Steve! Control, man! Do you want to hash this over or find him?”

Steve’s face jerked to the side with the force of the hit, not even raising a hand to touch the mark Sam left. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Damn straight I’m right. Now, think about Rumlow. Where would a guy like him keep somebody? He’s got Bucky’s file . . . knows a lot only the cops would know.” Sam dropped his hands to Steve’s shoulders, squeezing to keep the blond focused.

Steve threw his hands in the air in frustration,“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since he was unconscious at the field hospital. I don’t know who this - - this Crossbones guy is!” 

The other detective nodded. “So, you got intel on him before, from Bucky’s friend? Why don’t we ask him? Get him to come on over while we tear this house apart incase the asswipe left your boy here?”

Shaking his head, the blond replied, “No, Wilson is long gone.”

“If you tell me this mercenary is a beautiful black man, I’m quitting the force.” Sam frowned.

“Wade Wilson,” Steve amended, “Some mercenary that used to be in Bucky’s unit. But he can’t help us. I guess he was going on a job or something.”

“Still,” Sam tilted his head ever so slightly, “he ain’t a relation. Momma Wilson only had one son . . . me.”

“Sam,” The blond snapped, “Be serious! We are wasting time! Bucky could be dead!”

The ex-paratrooper sighed and again ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry, Steve. Self defense mechanism when things get real tight. So, you think Rumlow is gone and replaced by this Crossbones nutjob?”

“The man I worked with wouldn’t have done anything like this. He wouldn’t have killed his wife. He wouldn’t kidnap some innocent reporter.” Steve ran a hand over his face, his eyes tearing up at the thought of Bucky being at the mercy of some lunatic.

Looking thoughtful, Sam glanced back to the damaged prosthetic. Placing one hand on his chin, he said “an explosion followed by a divorce and never seeing your lover again might do the trick . . .” he trailed his brown eyes back to Steve. “You think?”

“I guess. But why target Bucky?”

“So, he gets injured and processed out of the Army. His wife takes one look and decides to bail. And all the while, he’s healing and hoping to hear from the only remaining man alive in the unit . . . you, his lover. Steve, he’s got a serious hate for you because he thinks you deserted him, like his wife. He’s doing this to hurt you . . . and he knows Bucky’s your new boyfriend.” Sam straightened, shaking his head a bit.

“So what? He takes Bucky . . .and - -” Unable to say the words, Steve pauses. 

“And,” Sam added firmly, “I think he’s gonna keep Bucky alive just to torment you, maybe send you more . . . “ he gestured to the arm taken from Bucky but didn’t finish the sentence.

The detective felt a wave of nausea roll through him, he was going to be sick, “You think he’s gonna send me pieces of Bucky?”

Taking Steve’s shoulders again, Sam gives him a firm shake so they lock eyes, soft brown to intense blue. “So, think for me, buddy. If Rumlow was in his right mind and had an enemy captive, and was using that enemy to taunt the bigger bad guy . . . where would he stash him?” He deliberately ignored the question.

Steve thought for a moment, trying to remember everything, anything about his old friend that would get them closer to finding Bucky. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Steve said, “Rumlow liked to use people’s weaknesses against them.”

Sam nodded. “The letter says dark hole, Steve . . .”

His eyes widened slightly, “Somewhere dark. Bucky is terrified of the dark. Brings him back to being stuck under that building.” 

“So, somewhere like a panic room or a cellar or a basement or something?” Somewhere close or wide? Does it matter?” Sam prompted his friend and partner.

“He’d want complete control. He wouldn’t want the risk of anyone hearing or seeing him. Somewhere completely isolated.”

Sam nodded, dropping his hands and heading towards the end of the hall, leaving the evidence untouched. “Either sound proofed and surrounded by masonry, like a panic room or interior closet, or underground, like a deep basement or air raid shelter from like in the fifties?” He pulled out his phone to call for backup and forensics at Rumlow’s private home.

Running a hand through his hair, Steve tried to think of where Rumlow would feel comfortable enough to hold someone hostage. 

As soon as Sam disappeared down the right hand corridor, a flying kick, covered in a heavy combat boot, slammed into Steve’s face from the left hand corridor.

***********  
Darkness. That’s all Bucky could think about at first. The suffocating darkness that enclosed around him seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. He sobbed and tried to drag his arm, once more, from where the hard cement pinned it, but nearly flipped over with the intense effort. Confused, blinking back the tears, but unfortunately not that all-consuming darkness, Bucky tried to process why he’d managed to get his arm free at last, after struggling so long. Slowly, the cold, hard cement against his nude back, the reporter realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

That single thought brought him out of the panic flashback and he gulped air, stale and musty, past the metallic copper taste ringing his mouth. So, he wasn’t trapped under a building in some godforsaken desert. He was free to stand . . . and Bucky used his one good arm, muffling his screams from placing his weight on those broken fingers on that hard unforgiving cement. He let his back bend, touching his forehead to the floor, counting his breaths: one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .

With a stuttered grunt, the brunet pushed against the broken hand and rose to his knees, then his feet, letting the scream rip from his tortured lungs, echoing the pain he felt throbbing from head to deep up his abused passage. A tearing anguish ripped through his hand and Bucky knew, deep down, that something had given under his weight; he could barely hold his hand up, the fingers hanging in a dead looking droop. The intense pain ripped another scream from him and his throat filled with blood, a horrifying whiteness washing over him and threatening to drag him back to unconsciousness. The reporter fought the weakness, the near-faint, and with a second, smaller cry of pain and fear ending in a strangled gurgle, Bucky stumbled towards the empty darkness, hand outstretched, despite knowing he’d feel the pain once he contacted something. He let the blood dribble out of his mouth and down his battered chest, ignoring the warm, coppery bitterness.

Wood caressed his palm and tore anguish through his fingers, but Bucky gulped a prayer of gratitude, Wood he could deal with. He lay his head against the blessed structure and simply breathed through the pain again: one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . 

And slowly, very faintly, like a dream of a dream, or perhaps a far off radio, sounds came under the small crack beneath the door. Voices arguing intently, Bucky’s sniper trained hearing, though out of recent practice, warning him that someone was nearby. Were these masculine voices the sound of mocking entertainment programming? Or perhaps rescuers? Shaking his head, Bucky determined that most likely they belonged to more torturers. Or was his captor returning for a third debased attack on the wounded, near-helpless reporter?

Steeling himself, drawing firm breathes despite his injured throat and torn voice box, now that he knew of this escape route Bucky leaned into the wood and began to plan, gathering his strength to attack the next figure who loomed through this door.

********

Steve, completely taken by surprise, collapsed to the floor with the force of the attack. Dazed, he looked up to see a towering figure dressed in black body armor painted with a gaudy white skull grinning over the torso. Rage swarmed in his chest, he was about to say something when a pained scream echoed throughout the halls. 

As the scream faded, Crossbones laughed maniacally. “Oh, sounds like he’s awake and _begging_ for it, _Captain_.” He spit the title out like a curse. “Maybe gotta finish playin’ with ya right now cause I got me some ass to fill,” the man taunted from behind his mask, a deep rasping rumble of anger and hatred.

Shooting to his feet, Steve expertly tackled Rumlow, effectively taking the larger man by surprise. “You son of a bitch!” The detective exclaimed as both bodies tumbled to the floor. They rolled around on the wooden surface before Steve gained the upper-hand and pinned Rumlow underneath him. The blond rained down on the man below him, hitting him anywhere he could, but nothing seemed to phase the murderer.

With a laugh, Rumlow shook his head behind his protective mask. “Uh uh, _Captain_ , ain’t nice to swear on my mother like that! Now I’m gonna have to make ya hurt.” He pushed at Steve, pinned under the blond but seeming to be at little disadvantage. Rather, he brought his knee up sharply, just missing the crotch and hitting Steve in the thigh . . . hard.

Grunting, Steve released some of the pressure off of Rumlow, who seemed to jump at the opportunity to gain the advantage. The bigger man grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled him close, knocking his armored face into Steve’s unprotected one, smashing his nose. The detective’s vision blurred with the force of the attack. Immediately, blood began to gush from his nose, painting the lower half of his face in dark crimson.

“Want you ta scream for me so good, like boy toy does, Captain. Wanna fuckin’ feel it!” Rumlow hissed at the other man. “Gonna fuck you and then dip my bloody beast into him, so he can feel your pain.”

Temporarily dazed from the assault on his face, Steve wavered slightly, giving Rumlow the chance to knock him to the side with a vicious swing of his fist. Rumlow rolled to his side before getting into a crouching position, his whole body coiled tight, ready for attack. Then the large, heavily protected man, reached behind him into a sheath, and pulled out a wicked serrated knife. “Did ya bring a weapon to this party, Captain? Or are ya still the pansy behind the real men?”

On all fours, Steve reached into his holster that hung on his waistband and expertly shot Rumlow in the kneecap. “Careful who you mock, Rumlow.” Steve spat, standing up slowly.

“Son of a bitch!” Rumlow screamed, dropping to his good knee and clutching his bad, his knife clattering to the floor by his side. He glared up at Steve and made to go for his knife. “You and your boy are so gonna pay for that you fucker!”

Steve pointed the gun at the kneeling man, “Give it up, Rumlow! You’re finished!”

Careening around the corner, gun drawn and steady despite his fast pace, Sam skidded to a halt. “Damn! Leave some for me, why dontcha, Steve?”

Rumlow lifted his hands into the air, one knee bent slightly higher off the floor, trying to ease his painful bullet wound.

Shaking his head at Steve, Sam quipped, “he brought a knife to a gunfight?”

Sam’s words sounded muffled in Steve’s ears. All he could think about was that the man in front of him was responsible for so much death. He hurt so many people. All it would take is one bullet to end it all, to end all the pain, for justice to be made for all the misery this man caused. The gun in his hand began to shake, and Sam closed his hand over Steve’s, coaxing gently. “Steve, I got this. You go find your boyfriend.”

The detective eased his partner’s gun from that tight grasp, holding both steady on Rumlow. “You know I’m able to shoot the buckle off the body armor, Steve, go.” And he cocked the trigger of his own Smith and Wesson.

Steve nodded and took off in the direction of where he’d heard the scream come from. The corridor was lined with three doors. He quickly pushed the first door open but was met with a painfully empty bathroom. The detective moved onto the next room and saw an empty bedroom.

The sound of a muffled “Water? Please?” came from the closet of the bedroom.

“Bucky?” Steve cried, “Buck?”

A muffled, weak voice came back, “What?” There seemed to be no recognition in the call.

The blond rushed over to the door. Immediately he noticed that the door’s hinges were soldered shut. Cursing under his breath, Steve pounded on the door. “I’m going to get you out, Buck. Hold on!”

Again that weak rasp replied, devoid of emotion. “Yeah? No rush, right?” It was unclear if that was actually Bucky on the other side or some other victim of the insane Rumlow.

Police, suddenly swarmed the room. Steve turning his head to look at them over his shoulder, shouted, “Get me something to open this goddamned door, right now!” 

An officer hurried out and returned with a rather sturdy looking crowbar. He offered it to Steve. “Detective? Um . . . maybe you should get that nose looked to and we can open this door? We can report back . . .” he trailed off at Steve’s look.

Grabbing the crowbar with a low growl. He shifted the heavy object in his hand and shoved the crowbar right below the top hinge. He jerked it to the side and the the door popped open a little. Steve repeated the action on the lower hinge. The door fell slightly before being shoved opened violently. Steve, shocked by the sudden movement, jumped out of the way of the flying door.

Steve looked at the body inside incredulously, “Fisk?!”

“It’s about damn time you oafs got here!” The man reached out his shaking, bruised, hands and clutched the door frame, heaving his massive bulk from the small confinement. “I could have died in there!” His white suit was stained with more than dirt, a foul odor carrying with the man who hadn’t actually been on police radar for over two days. “And do you think they gave me water? Or food?” He pushed Steve hard on the chest, knocking the detective into another officer. “Get out of my way. I’m going to take this to the top!” He shuffled off with a groan and a foul stench towards the hallway.

The blond shook his head once before bolting into the hallway, past the angry politician. Where was Bucky? 

Steve ran into the other bedroom and rushed over to the closet. Unlike, the other door, this one didn’t seem to be blocked in any way aside from a large deadbolt just above the doorknob. With a shaky hand, terrified of what was behind the door, Steve slid the lock, an audible click filling the space around him. The blond lowered his hand and enclosed it around the doorknob.

With a quivering breath, Steve turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door . . . only to be met with a very hard object slamming fully into his abdomen, driving the breath out of him and knocking him to his knees.

The figure crouched suddenly, one arm up in a clawed position, eyes wide and unseeing in the sudden change from total darkness to bright light. Bucky rasped in a garbled grunting sound of pain and defiance, reaching one handed for the figure he knew knelt before him. Blood soaked his mouth, chin, and chest as well as his right hand.

Steve took in the horrid sight before him, tears springing into his eyes almost automatically. Bucky was completely nude, his body covered in bruises. His brown hair wildly sticking out of a makeshift bandage that wrapped around his head; the dirty white surface soaked through with blood. His right hand looked wrong. The fingers were twisted and swollen, the rest of the hand wasn’t any better, limp and drooping as if no bones or even muscles held it erect. Steve had to tear his eyes away from the blood that was smeared on Bucky’s thighs and behind. 

“Oh . . . Bucky. I’m so sorry.” Steve gasped, forcing a sob down his throat.

The worried voice broke through his panic, and Bucky lowered his hand slightly, blinking. He whimpered, unable to talk. He slowly uncurled, wavering as he tried to stand without using his broken hand. Steve found him! He sobbed in return, swaying, and made noise through his nose since his broken larynx wouldn’t vibrate. And the reporter swayed forward, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he passed out completely from the pain and terror.

Steve lurched forward and caught Bucky before he could hit the ground. Carefully he wrapped one arm under the brunet’s knees and the other behind his shoulders. Steve pressed his lips gently to his lover’s lips as he lifted him into strong arms. As if he’d read the battered man’s mind, Steve murmured, “I’m always gonna find you, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go. The sequel is already in the works!  
> Bring your tissues for the next chapter!  
> Like always, please leave us comments and kudos!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Chapter 17

Sam waved to Steve, whose face was now clean of blood but the dark purple bruising under his eyes stood out against his pale skin. The blond nodded in return but continued to talk to Bucky’s doctor. The dark eyed detective walked softly into the hospital room, ignoring the various beeps and whirs of machinery, hoping not to wake the patient if he slept. A wince seemed to cross Sam’s fine features at the sight of the broken and beaten reporter lying on the slightly raised hospital bed, an oxygen cannula in his nostrils. Studying the man before him, Sam took in the shaved, bandaged head, the dark bruising trailing over light olive skin, the hollow cheeks and chapped, cracked lips. Moving down, the blanket pretty much covered everything from the waist down, but above that, the gnarled scars wrapping over and around the left shoulder didn’t seem quite as horrific as the right hand, broken, swollen, bruised, and held in a stiff metal and wire traction glove attached to his forearm. It would be a long time before Bucky could type again.

Bucky, hearing the door open, slowly turned his head to face the detective. He didn’t say anything, just stared at him with empty eyes.

“I hear they already got your statements?” Sam asked softly, an obvious preliminary to whatever he wanted to discuss.

Bucky winced as he nodded, “Yeah.” His voice sounded raspy and mumbled from a lacerated larynx. The swelling was down and he could do some talking, but was being restricted by the medical staff..

Nodding, Sam moved closer. “Look, I know you’re not too fond of me right about now, but I needed to get something off my chest. You need to hear it, Barnes.” His eyes held a serious look in the brown depths.

The brunet didn’t say anything, his eyes searching the detective’s face as he waited for the man to continue.

“Right,” Sam apparently took Bucky’s silence for acquiescence. “I understand that you saw something you weren’t meant to and it endangered you big time, Barnes, put you on edge and in no condition to protect yourself.” Sam sighed and stood by Bucky’s bedside, but he didn’t fidget. With a single nod he said, “I’m very protective of my partner, you know? He runs headlong into things without thinking and gets himself hurt back. I saw a reporter sniffing around him and jumped to the conclusion that you were looking for leads and dirt, not for a real thing with my guy . . . uh, partner, I mean.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his short, dark curls. “So I started looking for dirt on you so I could prove you were just using him.”

“Why not just talk to me?” Bucky snarled, he hated the fact that his throat ached, his voice rasped and gurgled slightly, “You could’ve asked me yourself and I would’ve told you the truth. I would have told you that I lov . . .” The brunet stopped himself, not trusting himself to speak any further, especially as the hoarseness had grown with his pain.

The detective nodded sadly in return. “I was actually hoping I wouldn’t find anything. Yeah, I know, it doesn’t excuse me for not asking, but I’m an old dog who’s interviewed a lot of shady men and some not-so-shady guys who lie like rugs to get out of whatever I’m trying to ask about. So, I took the easy way. I started a suspect folder on you.” Sam kept his eyes steady on Bucky’s. “When Steve found out, he went ballistic. I’ve never seen him so mad. In fact, we were almost suspended for the argument we had at the precinct over you.”

With a small sigh, Sam added, “So I forced him to take the folder to look it over. He kept insisting ‘his Bucky’ couldn’t hurt anyone, couldn’t do those things. I insisted he keep an open mind. He took the folder home, I guess to ask you about . . . and you know better than me the rest of what happened over my research.”

“Didn’t seem to want to ask me about anything.” Bucky muttered, his mind trailing back to that night. How the argument had escalated so fast. 

Cocking his head a bit, Sam asked in a straight-forward manner, “if you’d just had a major argument with your best friend over your boyfriend, after working a double shift at two bloody crime scenes with three victims, would you have been up to talking before morning?” Sam shrugged fully. “Besides, I made one hell of an argument for Post Traumatic Overload, Barnes. It can happen to the best of us . . . war survivors.”

The journalist scoffed, “But I trusted him! I trusted you! Both of you just turned around and stabbed me in my back.” His tone rose frantically with every word he spoke. Tears welled his his eyes; his whole body seemed to tremble. His voice sounded almost inaudible, illegible. 

Sam shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “I’m gonna leave now, Barnes, but I wanna say one last thing. Steve didn’t stab you. I did. And I’m sorry for it. I guess I was a total jealous bastard that my friend found love so easily with you when I had to work at it for two years with my guy. Not excusing, just saying.” He headed towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “ You try to get rest, Barnes. Maybe give yourself and Steve a chance?”

Without waiting for comment, the dark skinned detective slipped out the door and slapped Steve’s shoulder almost sadly in passing. “I’m gonna meet you at the precinct, buddy.”

Steve’s eyes flashed with concern but he nodded tersely, “Alright. I’ll be a few more minutes.”

The detective ended his conversation with the doctor with a firm shake of hands. He turned and entered the hospital room. 

In the room, Bucky lay in the big sterile looking bed, trembling, with tear-washed blue-grey eyes. He couldn’t do anything to release his tension except chew furiously on his bottom lip; one hand had been immobilized and the other destroyed beyond repair.

“Heya, Buck,” Steve called out quietly. 

The other man turned his head slowly, painfully, and merely stared at Steve through his tears. He didn’t answer the larger blond verbally, feeling confusion, distrust, and grief roll over him as he watched the man he’d trusted with so much . . . the man who had accused him of going psycho enough to murder half a dozen people in as many days.

Steve sat down in the chair beside the bed and sighed lightly. Unsure of how to continue he simply asked, “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Bucky echoed, voice flat and emotionless and rasping hoarsely as he tried to bury his feelings, protect himself from being hurt all over again.

The blond shifted in his seat; he didn’t know how to handle this. He didn’t know what he should say. “Bucky . . . I am so sorry. You have to believe me. I-I . . . I’m sorry.” He wanted to reach out and take Bucky’s hand; but he knew he couldn’t. He settled for resting his hands on his lap.

Turning his head back to face forward, not looking at his erstwhile boyfriend any more, Bucky merely stated, a tremor he despised in his abused voice, “Thanks for the rescue, Detective . . .”

Steve whimpered, his heart aching, “Don’t do that, Buck. Don’t shut down on me.”

Sudden fire blazed in those blue-grey depths and he snapped, head turning slowly, belying his tone, “Don’t shut down on you? Like you didn’t shut down on me? Like you trusted me so much, you had me pegged for a mass murderer?” Suddenly, Bucky drew in a deep breath and sighed, eyes welling over, the tears running unchecked down his cheeks because he was incapable of stopping them or clearing them away. “No, Steve, I . . . I didn’t mean that . . .” His voice gave out briefly from his attempts to talk through the swelling, the tearing.

Blue eyes softened as Steve looked at the broken journalist, “I know. You have every reason to be upset at me. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I was scared . . . I was terrified that I’d lose you.”

Some small curiosity lit in the reporter’s belly, unable to be tamped down despite his hurt and fear, he whispered, “Scared for me, not of me, Steve?” He turned his head slowly to take in his lover once more.

“God no. I could never be scared of you Buck. Even then . . .” Steve stopped, thinking of how he should word what he wanted to say next, “Even when I thought the worst. . . I was never scared of you.”

A sob ripped out of the reporter then. He let his head hang, breathing deep through his mouth since his nose was closing due to his tears. His throat throbbed almost as much as when he’d come out of that closet. Thank God he didn’t really need that oxygen feed. “I . . . I don’t know if I can do this, Steve . . .”

Steve closed his eyes. He’d expected this; he knew Bucky wouldn’t be the same after they got him back . . . after what had been done to him, the words that had been said, the trust that had been demolished; the detective knew that things would change between them. Still, it didn’t make this any less difficult. “It’s okay, Buck. I - - I understand.”

“I don’t think I can let anyone touch me after . . . that.” He shuddered, and pain laced over his face from the sudden movement in his broken hand.

Pain surged through Steve's chest; he looked at his boyfriend with hurt eyes, “God . . . Buck.” Steve’s mind flashed back to the doctor, telling him that the trauma that had been inflicted on Bucky’s body showed that he’d suffered from sexual assault and torture.

Bucky raised his eyes and rasped, “I . . . I need time, Steve. I need to figure things out, by myself. And, well . . .” he swallowed against the rising tension and pain, wanting to take back the words as he spoke them, but unable to do that to either of them. “I want you to find someone else, because I’m not the one you need. I can barely look at you,” he sobbed again and slowly turned his head away from the beautiful blond detective. “Just leave . . . Steve.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, to say anything to the brunet to prove to him how he didn’t want anyone else, but snapped it shut when the door swung open. He looked over his shoulder and saw both Natasha and Clint standing in the entryway. Steve licked his lips nervously before shifting out of the chair. He looked down at the man in the hospital bed, his eyes displaying all the hurt he felt inside. “Bye, Bucky.” Steve whispered.

Without turning his head back, his voice once again softly neutral, Bucky hoarsely rasped “Bye . . . Steve.”

Clenching his jaw, Steve nodded once. He tore his eyes away from Bucky, and he turned away from the love of his life. He walked out of the door, unsure if he would ever see him again.

Clint looked after his fellow officer and frowned, apparently checking his hearing aid to make sure it worked properly and that he’d turned it on. Yeah, it seemed fine, so it looked like the nearly deaf man hadn’t missed anything. He looked back towards his fiance.

Natasha watched as Steve left and then turned back to her best friend. Stepping closer to the bed, she murmured in soft, loving tones, “Oh, Bucky.”

Bucky slowly turned his tear-streaked face to his friend of years. “I told him to, Nat . . . I . . . I can’t handle a relationship right now.” He tried to muffle his own sobs, but failed when it seemed to come out more of a snort than a whimper.

“I’ll be in the hall, Nat. You tell him. Get better, Barnes,” Clint said then turned and left the friends alone.

Natasha nodded to her fiance before turning back to the hysterical reporter. “Ssshhh,” she cooed, “it’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna get through this.” She gently, to avoid causing her friend anymore pain, ran her thumb across Bucky’s cheek, wiping away the tears that fell.

“I can’t . . .” Bucky whimpered suddenly, letting go now he was alone with Natasha. “His hands . . . I still hurt . . .”

“I know, Sweetie. You are going to be okay,” she repeated, her eyes showing just how pained she was to hear those words come from Bucky.

“But, I don’t wanna drag Steve down,” he whispered, answering an unspoken question from either her heart or his, he couldn’t say. “I told him to find someone else . . . someone whole and not broken.”

“James,” Nat spoke her tone still light but firm, “You are not broken.”

“I couldn’t do anything else, Nat. I love him too much! I _am_ broken. I can’t even look at him without seeing Rumlow . . . and feeling . . . Steve needs someone who can love him freely. Rumlow took that from me.” He told her, tears spilling once more, his voice becoming tight from misuse, and he knew he wouldn’t have many more words left before it gave out entirely.

Natasha shook her head slightly, “No he didn’t. You’ll find it again. Whether it be with Steve or with someone else. Rumlow did _not_ take love away from you.”

Drawing a slow, deep, stuttered breath, Bucky merely watched her intently. Finally, softly, he said “How do I fix this? How do I fix _me_?”

The redhead held her friend’s stare, “I- I don’t know. But what I do know is that we are going to figure it out together. You . . . you can move back into the apartment, and we’ll work through everything as a team.”

Thinking over that offer, Bucky nodded ever so slowly, fighting the pain in his head from the injury he’d received so recently. “I think . . .” he looked carefully up at his best friend, “I think I’m gonna go visit Becca in Florida for a bit. You know, hang with her and the kids? Her husband is overseas, so he won’t be around . . .” and he stopped, knowing he’d revealed too much or maybe not enough.

Natasha smiled softly, “That sounds like a great idea.” Seeming to not dwell over the last line, she continued, “I’m sure Becca will love that. Those kids love their Uncle Bucky.”

“When . . . “ he cleared the rasp from his throat and tried again, desperate to finish this conversation, pushing away the pain of his swelling throat. “When I come back, maybe we can talk about me moving in, if you and Clint aren’t married already.” He looked at her, willing her to believe it was because he didn’t want to interfere with newly weds rather than his sudden overwhelming fear of being alone with a man in a place he might not be able to get out of quick.

“You are welcome anytime you want, Bucky. It won’t matter if Clint and I are married, the apartment will always be open to you.” She wiped another stray tear that fell from the corner of his eye.

“Might matter to me,” he whispered, but left it at that, making no promises or decisions beyond seeing his only living family.

**********

Steve, after taking a few minutes to calm down from his discussion with Bucky, drove over to the precinct. As soon as he stepped foot into the hectic space Fury’s voice boomed over the room. “Rogers! In my office! Now!”

The blond sighed and ran a hand through his hair before walking into the office. Suddenly, he found himself wishing that he had not gone back to the precinct. He should’ve just gone home. He wasn’t sure if he could handle an berating from his Captain right now.

Already seated in one of the uncomfortable ‘yelling at’ chairs the Captain kept in his office, Sam looked up at his partner. “Where you been?” He asked, though he already knew, “Me and the Cap have been getting cozy without you.” Suddenly, Sam seemed to realize his words had struck a negative vibe because he leaned forward. “Steve? You okay? I tried to smooth it over with Barnes before I left.”

Steve merely shook his head. “Not here, Sam,” he rasped out.

“When you’re done?” Fury growled and Sam spun to face their commanding officer. “Mind explaining to me where you love birds were hiding while one of the leading politicians in Hell’s Kitchen was being kidnapped, greased, and stuffed in a closet like an overfed Christmas turkey?”

“We were pursuing other leads. We had no idea about Fisk,” Steve grumbled, not looking Fury in the eye.

“So, you decided to suddenly, without consulting me, drop the Kingpin gang war lead and do what? Run around after your boyfriend, body to body? Why? How did Barnes get the leads you two buffoons keep missing? And why the hell did he get caught if you were playing footsie with him instead of tailing Fisk’s guys?” Fury crossed his arms, glaring at the men.

“We actually found a prime suspect, Sir, and were pursuing that lead.” Sam said, voice calm but eyes worried.

“And? This other suspect?” Fury prompted with a deeper growl, eyeing Steve then Sam then Steve again.

“It was Barnes.” Steve snapped, but the cold glare from Fury forced him to soften his tone, “We thought Barnes could’ve been the killer.”

Fury straightened, surprise crossing his normally angry features. “What the hell? You were investigating Barnes for multiple murders? Why the hell did you do that?” His voice sounded incredulous.

“There was evidence linking him to the crimes. It was a false lead, of course,” the blond man grumbled, his stomach churning from thinking just how wrong they had been.

“I’ll say,” Fury swore low and long before uncrossing his arms. “And did you ever think to run this new lead before your beloved and wise commander? Or did you just decide, like a couple of teenagers trying to diss a girl you didn’t like, that you would dig up stuff on one of our lead informants?”

The blond winced, feeling even worse about the whole ordeal than before, “It was an honest lead. We didn’t have time to run it by you before the last two murders happened.”

Sam added, “We thought it was a post traumatic . . . overload?” He looked sheepish as he said it, like in the cold hard stare of Nick Fury the idea that Bucky Barnes could lose his cool due to war was laughable.

“So, no cell phone while you’re driving to the crime scene?” Fury barked out. “Thanks to your almost dead-on imitation of the Keystone Cops, I have a fat, angry political dragon roaring about City Hall, and one of my most prized, and valuable, informants laid up indefinitely asking to ‘think about’ whether he wants to continue helping our city.”

The dark skinned detective winced, there was no other word for it.

Steve continued to stare at the floor; the news that Bucky was thinking about quitting the one thing he loved to do hit him hard.

Slowly, almost quietly, Fury asked “And do you know how hard it is to get a fucking reporter to turn informant!?” The calm exploded at the end into a roar, much like the dragon he’d described.

“We’re sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.” The blond mumbled.

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time, Rogers! I want you both to think about this . . . for the next month, while you sit on your asses doing crosswords or knitting or whatever you fill your free time with . . . without pay. Now leave my sight before I take your badges for good.” He pointed to the office door. “And don’t forget to hand those candyass badges and water pistols you insist are guns to the administrative department for lock up!”

Sam rose to his feet, shaking visibly and looking paler. “Yes, sir,” he said, tugging at Steve’s sleeve.

Steve, following Sam’s lead, stood up and grumbled a, “Yes, sir,” before shuffling out of the office, his partner right behind.

**********

Five days later, as he was being transported to lock up to stand trial, Brock Rumlow managed to escape from holding; some say he had help . . . fortunately, Bucky Barnes had safely made it to Florida before the news broke over Brooklyn, and the rest of New York City . . . and Steve Rogers could do nothing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This is it. I will be posting the link for the sequel as soon as I post it . . . which should be later tonight or tomorrow.  
> Sam and I cannot thank you all enough for reading! And don't worry I promise our boys will have a happy ending!  
> See you all soon!


	18. Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel Link.

Hey Guys!

As promised we have posted the sequel, "Way We Go Down".   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/7526473/chapters/17108977

Thank you all so much again for reading this story! I hope you like the sequel! Sam and I promise ya'll are in for one crazy ride!


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